


Piece By Piece

by Varusai



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aftermath of Injury, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, And most importantly, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, I'll be adding tags as I go, M/M, Major Character Injury, Manipulation, Multi, Other, Science Fiction, Self-Discovery, Sendak and Haxus redemption arcs, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Worldbuilding, because i need that to live, galra centric, galra characters not dying constantly, pseudo-established Sendak/Haxus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2018-12-26 01:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12048852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Varusai/pseuds/Varusai
Summary: Sendak and Haxus survive their attempted invasion of the castle of lions, but fail to redeem themselves in the eyes of Zarkon. Now with one badly injured, the other lost in space, and both facing certain death if they were to ever return to the empire, they have only two options. Find each other and run, run to the fringes of empire controlled space and disappear forever, or stay and form an alliance with the very people responsible for their downfall.Neither are particularly desirable, but with the continued stability of the universe, and an unimaginable number of lives at risk, the right choice couldn't be more clear.





	1. Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I got invested in another rare pair, I hope people are somewhat into this ship
> 
> besides that:
> 
> Kip: galra equivalent of a second (about 5 seconds)  
> Rahkip: galra equivalent of a minute  
> Vrek: galra equivalent of an hour

It wasn’t often that Haxus felt regret for his past decisions. In fact, he wasn’t positive he could remember even the latest instance if asked, but as he felt himself teetering on the tips of his toes at the very edge of the castle ship’s turbine platform after the little paladin somehow managed to rip his leg out from underneath him, he wished more than anything that he had taken up Commander Sendak’s offers to spar more often.

Perhaps then a mere kit wouldn't have been able to get the better of him.

He would have been fine, the thought. even with as much time as he _wasted_ locked up reading in his quarters or tinkering with the ship and its systems instead of keeping his combat skills sharp, his balance was impeccable. A simple shift in his weight would have stabilized him and gotten him back into the fight.

He would have been fine, if not for that drone.

Grabbing onto the thing only delayed the inevitable, he was too far gone at that point, too unbalanced, and much too heavy for the little drone to support.

No matter what he was going to die.

The beginning of what would have been a borderline hysteric laugh transformed into a cry of terror as the drone gave out and the ships gravity pulled them both down. The little paladin lunging forward with an anguished shout of his own was the last thing Haxus completely registered before panic overwhelmed him.

His cry tapered off into a choked whimper as the air began to whip around him, and before he knew it the blinding blue light of the turbine was so very distant, and getting further and further away almost faster than he could comprehend. He wasn’t able to watch it for long though. He was in an uncontrolled spin, causing his flight training to kick in, and though there were no stars or structures to use to determine position, no coordinates or vitals to recite to whoever was on comm, and no debris to avoid, the impulse alone was enough to bring him back to his senses, and suddenly his mind was alive, taking in the situation at lightspeed.

He fired his emergency tether, just catching it on the exit rim of one of the radial turbines and was jolted to a stop, the force, even distributed across his flight suit, enough to punch the breath from his lungs.

Gasping and struggling to turn himself upright Haxus caught sight of the grappling head of his tether. It wouldn't last long. The turbines, even malfunctioning as they were, were still too hot. The metallic head was melting before his eyes.

He needed a new surface.

A ladder.

A fucking ventilation shaft.

_Anything._

His arms shot out and legs kicked back and forth, swinging himself on the line, stretching as far as he could manage toward the internal containment bulkheads of the turbine in a desperate attempt to catch onto something that would save him when his tether broke. But there was nothing. He _knew_ there would be nothing. These areas were too dangerous, maintenance access had to be activated from the central control panel. Either that or the bridge. Safety features were going to get him killed. How fucking ironic.

He could do nothing but watch as his tether failed.

Haxus had studied this ship thoroughly. Gone over every file on Altean technology that Commander Sendak had received from Emperor Zarkon in preparation for this mission.

There was nothing below him but sleek support structures and the cold, hard metal of the external containment bulkheads.

Nothing to grab.

Nothing at all.

_Nothing._

 

His breathing was too fast. Panicking again, but Haxus couldn’t find it in himself to get control of it. The support structures were in sight but he had no second tether to launch or fucking _anything_ useful at all.

If only he’d waited just a bit longer.

He hardly registered the pain as his claws extended to their full length and broke away trying to tear their way out of the thick material of his flight suit. It’s not like they could help him anyway. There’s no way he could reach the beams. No way his claws would help him on such solid metal…

 

_Wait._

Flight suit…

**_Flight suit!_ **

He always wore a flight suit!

_Oh, what an idiot he was to not remember…_

 

His hands were at his collar in the next instant, switching the armor into zero g mode, body reacting while his mind caught up. The world dimmed and quieted to near silence as his helmet materialized and clicked into place. All systems activated and the gentle red of his HUD quickly shifted to emergency blue, lighting up with impact and vital spike warnings that he dismissed in exchange for nothing but the altitude reading and a grid overlay to make visible the solid structures of the environment.

All he needed was to see the bulkheads.

They were coming up fast.

Less than a kip before impact. But he was already in position, his righting reflex having turned him feet first what seemed like forever ago.

He activated the boosters in his boots. Maximum thrust.

It wouldn’t be enough to save him. The ships gravity was too high and the fall too far. He’d already picked up too much speed. He was still going to get hurt. Badly. But the altitude loss was slowing. Quickly.

He was sure he would live. Just barely but it was enough.

Once Sendak secured the ship and killed the paladin he would come for him. It would take no time at all. He would be fine.

 

_< Impact imminent> _

One of his boosters shorted out, but it didn’t matter. He centered his unaffected leg, diverting power to the remaining booster. Thank the stars it was on the side of his prosthetic. That would better absorb impact.

The limb warped beneath him. Beneath the crushing force of impact.

His armor locked up, slamming into emergency mode.

Then everything went dark.

 

 

No….

It was just the HUD shorting out.

He was still awake…

He was alive….

 

_He was alive._

The pain told him that.

Haxus would be forever grateful for the half kip that he was too dazed to be aware of it, because from the moment he sucked in his first ragged breath he knew he’d never be free of the memory of it if he managed to survive.

It was near indescribable. None of the claws or knives or energy weapons that had torn into him in the past could even come close to this…this…agony that radiated through crushed muscle and bone, up his spine and into his head, exploding behind his eyes with every movement. Even so much as a twitch set it off, and he couldn’t stop moving.

He had to breathe, but every inhale was torture for his shattered ribcage. He couldn’t control the way those breaths stuttered, making him gag on the blood welling up in his mouth, or how his broken body began to tremble and convulse from the shock. It hurt so much…...void encircling it _hurt so much_ ….

But still he smiled.

It all meant he was alive. Alive with an undamaged brain and even possibly an intact spine. Better than he expected really. Everything else could be fixed. Commander Sendak would forgive him for his failure, he knew he would. He would complete the mission. Secure the Voltron weapon for their Emperor and the Galra Empire, ensuring its safety, stability, and prosperity forever. Then he would come find him and get him fixed right up. Maybe even better and stronger than before depending on how much needed to be removed once everything was said and done……

The thought was a comforting one, and the small, distressed noises he’d been unaware that he was making ceased slowly, smoothing out into a gentle purr that calmed his racing thoughts soothed the pain somewhat.

One of his arms, the one he hadn’t landed on was mostly uninjured. He used it to activate his flight suits distress beacon. That would surely speed things along once Sendak was ready. The energy core was a massive machine after all. Now all he had to do was wait.

Stay awake and wait.

Stay awake.

 

That was proving to be an issue. The hurt was going away, another major worry on its own, but as the vreks passed…or was it only rahkips….it felt more like vreks now…it’s been so long….has to be vreks……without the hurt Haxus had nothing to pull him away from the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.

Not good.

He knew if he let himself sleep he’d be done for. He doesn’t know how he knows but the knowledge is there. Whether it be from blood loss, or shock, or brain injury that for some reason hadn’t affected his ability to think, he was dying, he wouldn't wake up if he allowed himself to sleep now. He has to do something.

Haxus doesn’t dare try to move the rest of his body, but his arm is still fine. He can't reach much, his chest, part of his thigh, his face…. there’s something in his face…stuck in the flesh. Some kind of…blades or shards…. sharp force trauma. That he can deal with now.

Carefully he feels around for them. He can't see well, not through the thick sheen of his own blood trickling down into his eyes, obscuring the chamber around him in a haze of deep blue, but he can feel them. They're large enough to grip and pull out once he figures out the angle of extraction.

It wakes him up. Having something to do. Something that hurts a little. It’s good. But soon they’re all out. Flung to the ground away from his body so they could do no more damage even on accident. He doesn’t know what to do then…

Oh wait… He can still seal the injuries. He can reach the little med kit concealed in the armor on his thigh. That’s something to do.

There’s a sting when he presses, feels for the edge of the injuries to make sure he misses nothing. Good. And even more sting when he applies the healing salve. Especially when some of the gel gets into his eye accidentally. It’s safe, he knows, but irritating. The wounds were so close to his eyes, he was so lucky to still have them really.

At that thought the irritation is gone.

The wounds closing hurts. But it doesn’t last long. The salve works fast. Soon he has nothing again, and again he feels himself only kips from sleep.

_Where is Sendak?_

_What is taking so long?_

He checks his beacon. It’s definitely working. There’s a flash of light and a pulse of warmth each time it repeats its message. It’s been so long…Sendak should be there already. He’s never one to waste time.

His eyes slip shut, and in a panic, Haxus brings a first down on his shattered leg to bring himself out of it.

It hurts no more than the little wounds on his face. Maybe even less. But the fear, the anticipation of pain from it saves him, picking his breathing up enough for the dull ache in his chest to flare up.

It’s not enough though.

Twenty kips. He makes it twenty kips before his eyes began to droop shut again.

With every bit of willpower he has he forces them open, and a horrible thought springs up from the depths of his traitorous mind.

_What if Sendak isn’t coming?_

_What if he is not forgiven for his moment of weakness?_

_What if he’s going to leave him in the energy core to die because of it?_

_Or worse…._

_What if Sendak failed?_

_What if the green paladin managed to injure him too, and he’s waiting somewhere for Haxus to come get him?_

_What if he’s dead?....._

No, that can't be right….

Commander Sendak never fails. Never once before and never will it come to pass. He is Emperor Zarkon’s top commander, by all rights his second in command with the kind of missions and information he is entrusted with. Sendak never fails. And Sendak has forgiven him before for _slips_. Not quite as bad as this, but still…He had had no incidents as of recent. His performance as Sendak’s lieutenant has been stellar for a long while. Sendak chose him, trained him, is happy with him. They have a system, an order that the other Galra would not be so rash to throw away, not with all the work it took to get to where they are. Their relationship is solid.

It’s some kind of delirium, Haxus thinks, the blood loss getting to him making him think such things.

There is a sound behind him. Distant taps…no…footsteps. It’s hard for him, but he can definitely make them out.

_See? There he is Haxus. Concern was unwarranted, ridiculous even. Sendak never fails._

He tries to make a noise, any noise to let his commander know that he is there, that he is alright, but he is unable to managed anything. Not that it matters. The footsteps pick up, moving fast towards him until he can sense the presence of someone above him. He’s slipping away fast, but this time he doesn’t fight as hard. He’s not alone anymore, and he will be in the medical bay sooner than later considering how loud Sendak is shouting to the remaining sentries. Loud enough for Haxus to hear even though he can hardly make out the sound of his own hearts beating anymore.

Then there are hands on him. More than one pair, but that was to be expected. He was too damaged to be moved by one without risk of further injury. It was worrisome that he felt no pain as he was shifted from the crumpled heap he'd previously been into a more orderly position, but there was warm metal on the back of his neck, keeping his head and neck steady as he’s moved onto whatever object they are using to transport him. The shape of his commander’s hand felt off, smaller, and missing claws, heavily damaged from battle no doubt. It was comfortable none the less, grounding as he was whisked away through the violently bright corridors of the Altean ship and then into an even brighter chamber that must have been the medical bay.

The many hands worked in tandem to remove his flight suit. They seemed to struggle, cutting the armored sections away in pieces and removing the heavy fabric underlay as whole, taking forever instead of entering the emergency release code that would have accomplished the same task in two simple steps. Stupid, inefficient sentries.…or maybe the suit was damaged….yeah, that was probably it.

He isn't prepared when Sendak peals his blood soaked thermal suit and under clothing away from his body. He thought he wasn’t feeling anymore, but it was just too much movement, too much tugging on his limbs…there must be compound fractures, bad ones too, because he's whimpering before he can stop himself.

Every pair of hands freezes, and Sendak’s voice goes comically high with an amount of concern Haxus didn’t know his commander was capable of. He must really be in bad shape, to make the other galra sound like that…

He ends up just cutting the clothing away. Should have done that to begin with, the idiot.

One of them administered a painkiller, a strong one, and his body went numb. He could only feel the pressure of the protruding bones being pushed back into his body, then set properly, or as properly as could be managed before he was lifted again and moved into one of the healing pods. This one was thankfully horizontal and he was not required to move on his own. Sendak and one of the sentries did all that for him.

A warm, slightly trembling metal hand settled on his shoulder, and for a half kip he considered trying to open his eyes, or even make a small sound of acknowledgement, something to reassure the other galra the he was still with him, but he was positive that anything that came out of him would only be more distressing. So he kept his mouth shut until the touch was gone and the pods energy barrier sealed over him, enveloping him in a deep cold that turned off his senses completely and reminded him so much of home.


	2. This is a Bad Idea

“Or, maybe we shouldn’t go on this mission at all. Think about it. We’ll be delivering the universes only hope to the universes biggest enemy.”

The room went silent as Keith spoke for the first time since they hit the bridge and Shiro’s chest clenched in a way that was frighteningly familiar at finally hearing out loud the cold truth that had been lurking quietly in the back of his mind.

No matter how he imagined it, no matter how he picked at and tweaked the attack scenarios he’d been constructing from the instant it set in that Allura was gone, he couldn't see a way that they could come out of the mission _alive_ , let alone successful. He would be leading Voltron, his team, these kids, to their deaths if he made any attempt at getting Allura back, but there was no way he could just leave her trapped in the same situation he’d been trapped in for more than a year. Not knowing the toll it took, that it was still taking on him even with the absence of the actual memories. He wouldn't be able to live with himself, and he was sure no one else on the ship would allow it.

He was thankful that Hunk had the clarity of mind to calm the fighting and flying accusations that threatened to consume the bridge, giving him the small moment he desperately needed to ground himself and get his mind back on the task at hand.

“Guys, lets focus. How are we going to get Allura?”

“I’ll start going through the rest of the data you brought back.” Pidge said, flicking open a few more screens beside the central command specs. “A ship this size has to have more entry points than just the hangars and airlocks, as well as plenty of blind spots we can use to our advantage. The four of us can each take a quadrant, and you and Coran can take the perimeter rings and planets. It may take some time, but we will find something.”

The other three paladins were at their terminals before he could give the order, already preparing to receive the data transfers for their assigned quadrants. Even Keith, who still looked somewhat irritated as well as deep in thought, didn’t try to argue his point further. He and Coran were able to come to some sort of silent truce despite it being plainly obvious the man was still distraught, and soon each of the paladins was motioning for him. Already finding potential openings for attack.

For a while Shiro actually felt hopeful, but as the hours passed with only failed options and shot down ideas to show for their efforts everyone was beginning to grow anxious. Pidge was getting snappy with everyone in the room and Shiro could have sworn he’d heard her swearing under her breath after discovering a previously unknown weapons system that ruined an idea Hunk had put forward. Hunk himself was quiet, fine at first glance if one didn’t know what to look for, but Shiro knew better. He was fidgeting, wringing his hands and picking incessantly at the slightly frayed edges of his headband as he tried to keep Lance and Keith from bickering unsuccessfully until _Coran_ of all people ordered the two of them off the bridge to cool off.

Dimming the displays on his terminal, Shiro stretched his legs out, preparing to get up. Lance and Keith wouldn't stop left on their own, he was sure of it. Not in such a high stress situation without an outlet, and they didn’t have the luxury of time here. He’d have to intervene, and sooner rather than later too considering how irritated Lance had looked.

Fighting down the beginnings of a headache he followed them out minutes later when the muffled argument quieted suddenly, but neither returned to their terminals. He had braced himself, expecting the worst the instant the doors hissed open, but instead was met with nothing but a silent and empty corridor.

Irritation flared up in his chest at the thought that they’d just decided to up and leave in the middle of an emergency, but it quickly dissipated when he realized they’d only wandered further down…

Far enough that anyone listening wouldn't hear a conversation no matter how loud… making Shiro instantly suspicious.

They had really gotten a lot better about leaving each other alone and getting along, especially considering how much they’d been at each other’s throats the first few days. Bonding through whatever…psychic link being a member of Voltron required them to have did wonders for the entire team’s ability to coexist and eventually become friends, but Keith and Lance were never the types to pair off together. Lance was closer to Hunk, always had been, and Keith had always come to him first with anything that was bothering him or when he wanted company. Shiro couldn't imagine what or why they’d be off together, and now at all times. It just didn’t fit the dynamic he’d become familiar with. So he followed tentatively, wanting to listen first instead of immediately jumping to a negative conclusion. Even as much as their behavior concerned him and how little time they had to spare given the situation, he did think they still deserved a chance to work things out on their own if they could.

 

“No no no, wait! You can't just say something like that then tell me to ‘never mind’! What the quiznak Keith?!”

“Look, before you tell me what a horrible and stupid idea you think it is, just think about it. Really, _really_ think about it. Sen…”

“I don’t think it’s a stupid idea!” Lance cut him off. Even from the considerable distance Shiro had stopped to listen he could still make out the look of utter surprise on Keith’s face.

“Wait, really?”

“Uh, yeah? I can't believe I'm saying it but absolutely _yeah_. I mean, we’re kinda at a dead end here, and if anyone on this ship knows _anything_ about one of Zarkon’s ships its him. I’m just…No way anyone else is gonna go for this. It’s way too dangerous. Hunk’s gonna freak out, and I don’t even wanna think about Shiro.”

“Well we have to do something eventually. And this _is_ an option. A major one. Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, I have to at least say something.”

 

Shiro didn’t need to ask about what. That was clear. There was only one _him_ on the ship anymore that would know about galra ships other than Shiro himself.

Sendak’s Lieutenant.

 

Not long after they had Lance safe and healing in one of the pods, and Sendak himself securely frozen, did Pidge pick up an unidentified transmission. It had caused quite the panic when they learned it was galran, until it was established that it wasn’t reinforcements preparing to attack the castle, but instead a repeating distress signal coming from within the ship itself. Based on the direction alone they knew it was definitely not coming from Sendak or any of his equipment, and with that Pidge took off and spoke up, explaining on the way to wherever she was leading them how she’d confronted and supposedly killed the lieutenant with the help of the drone she reprogrammed.  

He’d fallen from the catwalk inside of the central energy chamber. A massive drop according to Pidge, Allura, and Coran, impossible to survive. But apparently, he somehow had, and looking down from the exact spot Pidge directed them to, Shiro was amazed there had been anything more than a splatter of blue on the containment bulkhead when they arrived.

If he was honest, he wished that would have been the case. It probably would have been easier to look at.

It ended up having to be Coran, Allura, and himself dealing with the galra. Pidge, upon seeing the twisted and broken body, had gone deathly pale and locked up, frozen in place until Hunk, who looked no less sick, all but dragged her away. Keith had made a valiant effort, making it all the way up to the medical bay and even assisting in removing the galra’s armor and clothing so Coran could get a better look at his injuries. But by the time they got past the metal Keith’s hands had been trembling, and upon attempting to remove the second body suit, feeling the tug of fabric on bone, and hearing the wheezing cry the apparently still conscious galra was unable to hold back, Shiro knew he’d had enough. He had sent him away then, _‘go find Pidge and Hunk, make sure they’re alright for me’_ , leaving himself and Coran to deal with the protruding bones and mess of gruesome head injuries beneath the galra’s ruined helmet while Allura prepped the healing pod, making adjustments to accommodate galra physiology.

After that however, Shiro hadn’t had much to do with him. Everyone on the ship unanimously agreed that they couldn’t just kill him, or even let him die from his injuries. Not when they knew and could do something about it. That wasn’t who they were, wasn’t what Voltron stood for, but like Sendak, he was too dangerous to be let loose. So, their course of action would be the same for him as it was for the other galra. He’d be kept frozen in a pod until they could figure out what exactly to do with him, and with him being in no condition to be awake anyway, the decision was considerably easier compared to the first time they’d made it.

Coran was the one in charge of managing the goings on in the ships medical bay and the only one who was at all qualified to care for an injured galra, meaning that he was the only one who had any contact with the lieutenant since he was put under. So other than the few times Pidge, and one time Keith, had come to him on edge, and needing to talk through some of their feelings surrounding the incident, Shiro hadn’t thought much about the galra.

Though he couldn't remember, something in him told him that he had both seen and dealt out more gruesome injuries. He was no longer phased by such things, at least not in a way that was bothersome or even obvious. And he had confidence in the ships systems. There was no chance of escape from one of the pods. The galra was contained, everyone was safe. That was the end of it. He had much more pressing things to worry about. At least until what happened with Sendak, and of course, now.

Keith and Lance were looking right at him, finally having realized they were being watched. Lance offered an awkward little wave before both boys took deep breaths and made their way over to him, looking nervous but also steadfast in their decision, united in a way that Shiro had only seen a handful of times before. He would have been proud of them, if not for the plethora of issues they were about to bring to a table that was already overflowing.

“Sooo, you uh, heard all that, huh?” Lance said, shifting from one foot to another until Shiro gave him a tired nod and motioning for them both to follow him back to the bridge. There was no point in only Shiro hearing this. The entire team needed to be involved in a decision this big.

By the time they arrived, everyone was aware that something was going on. Pidge and Hunk were talking quietly to each other, and they had Coran’s full attention. He knew it was probably redundant, he’d hardly been gone for any time at all, but Shiro still asked if anyone had come up with anything new, and upon hearing that there was nothing, gave Keith the go ahead.

“Guys, this is gonna sound a little crazy, but Lance and I both agree. I think we should wake up Sendak’s goon down in medical and see what we can get out of him on all this.” He said, seemingly as quickly as he possibly could. It didn’t stop the eyes of the three who had yet to know from going wide.

“Uh…sooo, I know the two of you aren’t exactly the pinnacle of impulse control and…safe and sound decision making overall, but honestly this is crazy even for you.” Hunk said after a long while. “I mean…come on Lance you can't be serious, that guy almost killed you _and_ Shiro. If Pidge hadn’t have been there he probably would have.”

“You don’t think I haven’t thought about that?” Keith said, keeping his voice calm even though Shiro could see the beginnings of a crease in his brow. “I’m well aware of the danger. It’s just that we’re kinda out of options right now. Other than just forming Voltron and kicking down Zarkon’s front door we have _nothing_. And no matter what we do that’s not gonna go well for us. We need something to work with…and I mean…Sendak was one of Zarkon’s top commanders, right? So, he probably spent a lot of time with the guy, _on his central command ship_. And if Sendak was there, so was his second in command. This guy could give us a new angle, maybe point out something we aren’t seeing…”

“Plus,” Lance followed up quickly, “Sendak only got the drop on us last time because we were running around all over Arus with our guard down. Now we’re all together on the ship, and we’re stronger than we were before. Lieutenant maniac on the other hand is by himself, injured, and only has one leg. I'm pretty sure we could take him if he tried any funny business.”

“…I'm not saying we have to wake him up right now, okay? Or that we even have to do it at all, just that it’s something we _can_ do if we can't figure something out soon.”

Shiro hated how convincing they were. He knew this was a bad idea, but still there were some parts of his mind entertaining it. Both of them were right. The galra probably could tell them just about anything they needed to know, and they were immensely more powerful than they’d been on Arus. They _could_ handle it. But god Shiro didn’t want to. He would rather do almost anything else really. But the look in Coran’s eyes was dangerous and certain. He was with them before anyone had a chance to counter. Unexpected but not unsurprising. Shiro knew he would do anything for Allura, and after what he allowed to happen he had no room to criticize.

Pidge face was pensive. She hadn’t decided anything yet, but she was considering it. She would definitely see the benefits over the risks in no time at all and unlike him, she harbored no fear of the lieutenant. That she had long since moved passed.

“I…actually think you’re right.” Pidge told them, confirming Shiro’s fears.

Four against two. He’d have to say yes.

“One problem though. What do we do if he decides he’s not gonna talk? Which is really…more than likely. I mean we could hardly get anything out of Sendak even with the memory extracting technology. And after that we all know how things ended up. How are we gonna manage a full-blown interrogation?”

The entire room went quiet. Keith didn’t look at her, keeping his gaze carefully on the ground. Lance and Hunk were sharing a nervous look, clearly uncomfortable with the first thing that popped into their heads when faced with the issue of an ‘uncooperative prisoner’, just as Shiro was. None of them would ever go that far, they couldn’t even look at the galra’s injuries without getting sick. And Shiro knew damn well that he could never hurt anyone outside of self-defense. He worried every single day about it, about being even slightly too rough with Keith during a spar, or not gauging the strength of his grip correctly when touching the slighter Pidge and Lance, or squeezing too hard when Hunk went in for a hug. No matter how much he hated the galra, he couldn't do what they did. If the lieutenant wouldn't talk there wasn’t much they would be able to do outside of empty threats and posturing.

If the lieutenant was anything like Sendak himself, he’d recognize that quickly and they’d be done for.

“Now now, paladins, there’s no need to be worrying about that right yet.” Coran told them, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll have to look and see if he’s even in any condition to be out of a pod first off. There’s been a few…slight hiccups in the healing process, and while things have been going fine for a while I can't be sure he’ll be up for any talking until I get some current readings.”

“So just so we’re all clear, we’re actually doing this…this is a thing we’re actually going to do right now? Shiro?” Hunk asked once it was clear that Coran was finished.

Coran didn’t look like he was going to wait for Shiro to say yes. In a way Shiro wished he wouldn’t have, that he’d just gone on and did whatever he thought would be in Allura’s best interest and absolved him from having to make the hard call. But of course, he didn’t, and now everyone was looking to him.

Great.

Pushing the warm metal fingers of his galra arm over his tired eyes, he sighed in defeat. “We’re going to do this _carefully_. Until Coran gives us the go ahead no one touches the pod, and afterward someone will be watching him at all times, two even if we can spare. He doesn’t leave the medical bay if we can help it. I don’t want him to have even a fraction of an opportunity to get loose on this ship, got it?”

Satisfied with the chorus of confirmations from each paladin, Shiro turned his attention to Coran. “Do we have any cuffs or other restraints, anything that we can secure him with?”

“Sure thing number one, we can grab them on the way down.”

“Then let’s get this over with.”

 

 

*****

 

 

The galra, Haxus, Pidge had told him quietly while waiting for Coran to finish his scans, was…honestly a lot smaller than Lance expected. They had hardly had to change the size of the cuffs from the normal Altean size. It was probably the injuries he’d been dealing with at the time that had made the guy seem so large in the foggy glimpses he’d managed to catch of him before he was flung to the ground and knocked out for good, but despite all reasoning there was some cognitive dissonance that was preventing him from connecting the galra soldier that had manhandled him back on Arus to the disturbingly still, spindly creature asleep in front of him.

He didn’t wake up when the pod was opened, only laid in the same position he was supposedly left in, though thankfully looking much more….together since the last time the team had seen him, at least according to Pidge. But that wasn’t really reassuring. Not for Lance, or the rest of the team if the looks on their faces were anything to go by. Their bayards, which had all been active and directed at the galra fully prepared for him to leap up and try to kill them despite Coran’s assurances that it would more than likely not happen, were instantly put to the side, and he thought he even heard Hunks breath catch when it became obvious that Haxus wasn’t breathing.

“Uh, Coran…I think we have a problem, like a major problem we need you for right now!” Lance called out as he pushed his fingers to the unconscious galra’s throat in search for a pulse before realizing he wouldn't be able to feel anything through the gloves of his armor. “This guy isn't breathing!”

“Nothing to fret about paladins, this is completely normal if my memory serves me right.” Coran told him, gently shooing them out of the way so he could bring a hovering cot to the side of the pod onto which he proceeded to transfer Haxus onto. “Fascinating thing, galra physiology. Able to adapt to all sorts of weird and extreme environments. Atmosphere, gravity, extreme temperatures you name it! Got along superbly with Alteans back in the day because of it, though it does make them somewhat…difficult to deal with in regards to cyro technology. And it’s only gotten worse with the time it seems. This bugger almost woke up on three separate occasions if you can believe it…”

He continued to chatter on as he moved the galra to a more enclosed recovery area with Lance and the rest of the team trailing close behind, switching between keeping an eye on the sleeping galra and trying to listen, because it really was interesting, even if Lance was positive Coran was just babbling to fill the silence at that point. It shocked and sort of worried him just how little they all had known about the aliens they were supposed to be saving the universe from if he was honest. Haxus was very much alive and breathing according to Coran, only very slowly and shallowly. A result of his body fighting the cryogenic process initially, then again now, not allowing the pod to thaw him properly.

Pidge was the only one who dared risk the bare skin of her cheek so close to the galra’s mouth for the nearly five minutes it took for him to inhale and exhale again.

Upon seeing it was safe, Lance was more than interested in timing the breaths himself, then in taking one out of Pidges book and asking Coran the plethora of questions that were popping up one after another the longer he stood staring at him, but Keith snapped him out of it.

“How long until he’s awake Coran? We can't just sit around all day waiting.”

“Hm, well in my experience this usually lasts no more than a varga, but that experience was with galra ten thousand years ago. I’m sure a lot has changed since then, and there’s still his remaining injuries to consider, so it might be more, might be less. I just can't be sure.” The man said, tugging at his mustache, giving away his own impatience in the process.

“Then we’ll watch him in shifts.” Shiro spoke up. “Two at a time every hour, from the _outside_ of this room while everyone else gets back to work going over the data. If he wakes up, whoever’s on watch will radio the bridge and alert the rest of us. Sound good?”

The only argument was from Lance himself, with Pidge surprisingly backing him up. Neither of them thought two needed to be down at a time. Pidge was quick to point out that they still had massive amounts of data to sift through, and as long as the cuffs were on and the door stayed closed, one person would be fine, the rest of the team only being minutes away. It took some convincing but Shiro did eventually cave, and with confirmation for everyone the plan was solidified. Keith volunteered to take first watch, since the whole thing was his idea, Shiro, himself, Pidge, and Hunk, with Coran checking in sporadically to keep a watch for anything that looked like it was changing for the worse.

Shiro was the last out of the recovery room, checking and double checking that the doors lock was engaged before saying something to Keith that Lance couldn't make out, but from the way Keith tightened his grip on his bayard, he figured it was something about being careful or keeping his guard up.

It was only then that it really hit him just how dangerous what they were doing was and how easily everything could go wrong. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Shiro so tense, and yeah maybe that had a lot to do with Allura, hell Lance was still fighting down anxiety when he got to thinking too hard about what could be happening to her, but there was something about this…The tone of his voice when he spoke about the galra that made Lance not want to turn his back to that room. It took him forever to get himself back on task once he sat down at his terminal, and even longer for his brain to actually start processing the information he was reading through. He had only just started to make decent progress when Pidge was suddenly at his side, giving him a gentle shake when he didn’t answer Shiro calling him back down to the med bay for his watch.

He would never admit it because it was his stupid idea to begin with but at that moment he was actually super nervous about being on his own with Haxus. Shiro had informed him that nothing had changed, and looked like he’d calmed down quite a bit since before he’d left for his own watch, but it hadn’t really helped.

Stupid really, because now, Lance was just bored. Only fifteen minutes in and he’d paced as far as he dared and played with every weird piece of medical equipment that caught his eye. He’d never been good at quiet activities, studying, class, church, reading, even hide and seek was a struggle when he was younger. Sitting still for too long just made him antsy. But the most that had happened so far was he found some of the good juice pouches Coran only let them have on occasion, then accidently knocked the tray they’d been stacked on off the shelf and scared the shit out of himself. And it looked like that was just about all that was going to happen.

Haxus hadn’t moved an inch. From the window of the door he absolutely wasn’t allowed to open Lance couldn't even tell if he was breathing outside of what the monitors were displaying. Not that that was a bad thing. Lance majorly preferred that he didn’t wake up during his watch. He didn’t want to have to deal with that for even the few minutes it would take the others to get down to medical. But still. It was really boring.

He wished he’d brought his data pad. All he had was his…phone…thing. But Allura had only given those out a few days ago, so there was nothing on it, and it wasn’t like there was internet in space. He might as well not even have it.

There was his comm, but the others were busy. He didn’t want to bother anyone just because he couldn't sit by himself for an hour.

With one last puff of breath against the…glass?...whatever, he turned away, heading back to the table he’d decided to park himself on top of to check the time and finish off the rest of his third juice pouch. He was at twenty minutes now. Only forty minutes left. That was only ten minutes four times. Eight sets of five minutes. That isn't bad at all….

He had to go to the bathroom though…like…really bad…

Great. Just great.

 

_Yeah, great idea Lance, just drink three juice packets while guarding a crazy alien villain and stuck in a one-piece space suit armor combo. Definitely deserving of a roaring round of applause._

He groaned loudly, pressing his palms into his eyes. He was gonna have to either hold it for forty whole minutes, which wasn’t going to happen, or get someone down to cover his watch. God that was going to be embarrassing.

 _God_ , what if Shiro sent Keith? Yeah they were getting along right now, but he’d already made fun of Keith for not planning bathroom breaks out before training multiple times, he’d never hear the end of it if the same thing happened to him during something that was actually important….

…. Maybe he could just go….

Just really fast.

There was a bathroom in the medical bay. Two actually, if he remembered correctly. He could just take off the armored pieces of his suit before he left so he wasn’t gone long….

…Yeah, he could do that. Really fast. It won't be a problem. Haxus hadn’t moved in almost two and a half hours anyway. Five minutes wouldn't make a difference.

As fast as he could he undid the clasps on his breastplate, vambraces, and belt, flinging everything onto the table. He took one last look at Haxus to make sure nothing had changed before taking off in a jog toward the main part of the bay.

He was in and done in less than two minutes, even though he couldn’t find the hand dryer and got the sleeves of his suit tangled while trying to pull it back on because the stupid power blinked and made him jump. He was back at his post in no time at all, only a little bit disheveled. No catastrophe, nothing on fire, Haxus hadn’t moved, so no one had to know…..wait……

Lance’s hands froze hovering over the clasp of his second vambrace as he caught sight of the monitor.

The respiration rate was up.

Not by much, the previously zero breaths per dobosh only increasing to two, but it was a change. A change that he hadn’t been there to see.

Forgetting the rest of his armor he ran to the window to get a closer look. If something was happening he’d need to radio Coran to come have a look, and something was definitely happening. It was hard for him to tell at first but after a few seconds he was able to make out a new tenseness in the previously lax body. He needed to call Coran.

He didn’t get a chance to get back to his armor to do so. Before he could even turn his back Haxus’ entire body went stiff. His thin form tightening so much that he curled in on himself before beginning to convulse.

Lance didn’t even register his hand on the keypad, or when he got the door open, only that he was outside one second and at the galra’s side the next, catching him just in time to stop him from falling off his cot.

He was so much heavier than he looked, and Lance almost tripped backwards under his weight alone. The shaking made it so hard to get a grip. He didn’t want to hold too tightly, but it was so violent and the cot so small that he hardly had a choice. He needed Coran now, needed somebody, anybody.

He leaned in, using his own bodyweight to keep Haxus in place to free up his hand. His vambrace had a manual comm, thank fuck he’d had time to put it back…

He didn’t see what happened, but as he brought the comm up to his mouth his entire body went ridged. His breath caught in his throat as something hot was pressed against the exposed skin of his neck. He couldn't move, couldn't think, and the next think he knew he was on the floor gasping for air, a heavy weight jammed into his back and a thin but powerful hand curled around his head, pressing his face into the ground cruelly.

The other hand snapped out, grabbing and twisting his arm behind his back then clawing at it until the vambrace came free. It was hurled across the room before the weight shifted and a winded but rough voice snarled into his ear, bringing him out of his confusion. But the realization of what was happening only froze him again, though in a way that had nothing to do with pain, only terror.

“You have one kip to tell me who you are and where I am. If I have ask a third time, I swear on the darkest void that you will wish you had never been born.”

 

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Team Voltron back at it again with those bad decisions, just different ones this time:D


	3. First Steps

While the galra’s first words to him had been somewhat clear, that soon ceased to be the case. Haxus had ground out a whole lot of…something at him in quick succession. Something that made the ships translator buzz almost irritably as it failed to translate, making the phrases even more unintelligible. Haxus was getting more and more irate every second that Lance didn’t respond. He could feel the angry tremble of the galra’s hand growing worse, but there was nothing he could do. He didn’t understand, and could hardly breath with the galra’s knee jammed into his back let alone speak, and even if he could, and knew what he’d even been asked, he’d have no idea what to say. His mine was just blank, well, other than the crushing fear of the knowledge that he was probably living his last few seconds.

He had over half an hour left on his watch. No one would be coming to help him. He was alone. He was going to die alone…..

Above him, Haxus rattled off each question again, slower and steadier, taking time between each to stop and breathe and enunciate. It sounded odd enough to break Lance out of his morbid train of thought. Instead of the clear and cultured sounding speech Lance sort of remembered both he and Sendak having, Haxus’ words were heavy with a rumbling lilt, rolling growls and soft hums that, when too loud, could easily be, and were mistaken for snarling, but like this Lance couldn't describe any other way than being an accent. A thick one, but Lance could understand.

 

“Who are you?”

“Where is the rest of the crew?”

“What are your numbers?”

“What is our current location?”

“With whom is this ship allied?”

“Why am I being held here?”

 

All questions Lance could answer easily, if only he could get enough breath into his lungs to speak, but he couldn't. Haxus let loose a rage filled hiss, and when something sharp pressed into the injury on his neck hard enough to draw blood he couldn't hold back a sob.

“You stupid child, this can be much simpler than you are making it. Just tell me what I want to know, and the pain can stop.”

There was an unexpected hint of desperation in his harsh voice, and with it, through the haze of his fear, something clicked in Lance’s head. Haxus didn’t recognize him. Didn’t recognize him or the ship, two things he definitely should have recognized. Pidge had told him there had been head injuries…

Lance wondered how much else he didn’t remember. It could be just the recent events, but it also could be like…everything, and if that was the case, if he was really going to get that lucky….

He had an idea.

It was a bad idea, even by his standards. Everyone was going to kill him if it worked and Haxus didn’t do him in first, but it was all he had, and he had to do something.

He took as deep of a breath as he could manage, pushed his fear aside, and used what limited range he had with the arm twisted behind him to smack at the knee crushing his ribcage. There was no way he’d be saying anything with what felt like the equivalent of two huge people sitting on top of him.

Thankfully, Haxus seemed to realize the problem shifted his weight as quickly as he could manage with only one leg. “If you try _anything_ I will not hesitate to kill you, do you understand? Now who are you?”

With the blade at his throat, Lance didn’t even try to shift around to face him before answering.

“I'm Lance! You know, Lance, the Blue Paladin? You have to remember me, we’re friends! I’ll explain anything you want no problem, but you gotta relax, okay? I'm not gonna do anything do you and I’m not armed or anything. You don’t have to do all this.”

“Oh please, don’t make me laugh.” Lance’s heart nearly stopped as the blade dug in deeper, “If we are friends, do give me an explanation as to why I woke up restrained and guarded in a locked room, because that seems a little more like the treatment of a prisoner if you ask me _Lance_.”

The question brought a major problem to Lance’s attention. He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to convince Haxus that he wasn’t being held captive, but that was so unimportant compared to what the galra revealed unwittingly that Lance could have cried with relief, in fact he probably was crying, his face was so wet and cold.

He didn’t remember. Whatever his mission had been, that he was trying to kill them, there was no reaction at all to Lance’s admission of being a paladin. The fact that he was asking for clarification at all was more than telling. All of this Lance could work with. He was going to be fine. He just had to think up something…

“Look at the position we’re both in and you tell me why you think you were restrained. I’ll give you three guesses, go right ahead.” He told Haxus, doing his best to stop his voice from shaking and sound irritated instead.

The galra hissed again, but the grip on his arm loosened a fraction.

“So you just anticipated this reaction from me? How? What has happened to me, and where in the void are we? What is your relationship with me? What…Why…W--where is my leg…”

“Hey, just try to calm down, alright? One thing at a time. I already told you I’d explain whatever I could, but I’d appreciate it if you’d let me up, nothing personal, it’s just that the knife digging into my neck is kinda probably giving me an anxiety attack…not exactly a great way to be having a conversation if you ask me.”

“You are in no position to be making demands of me _paladin_. I would think carefully before speaking again if I were you.” The knife sliced a long gash into him all the way to the back of his neck, emphasizing Haxus’ threat and making Lance cry out. “Here, I will even help you start. Tell me what happened to me, and why I am being held prisoner.”

It took every ounce of his willpower to remain still and not struggle like everything in him wanted to.

Instead, Lance did his best to even out his breathing. He wasn’t even close to being out of this yet, but Haxus also wasn’t on top of him anymore. He could breath. His body hurt, and his muscles were cramping from whatever had initially knocked him out and he was cold beyond belief, but nothing was broken as far as he could tell, and he was only bleeding from the wound on his neck. The blade had done damage, but currently wasn’t being pushed into the wound anymore or making new ones. Only resting lightly against him, threatening but not hurting. He would be fine. He had to believe that.

“Sorry, sorry, I…it was a head injury mainly, I think, a bad one. And sometimes that can mess with memories, at least with humans. We were worried about what you would do if you woke up and didn’t know us, that’s all the precautions were for. You aren’t a prisoner at all, we were just trying to help you I swear!”

Haxus didn’t move for a long time, the only indication that he’d heard what Lance had said was a tightening and loosening of the grip on his arm, and after a few seconds, the knife leaving his neck and a loud knocking of something metal against the floor. He was trying to get something from the other side of the cot, but Lance couldn't see what until they were right in front of him, being snatched up as he was ordered not to move.

It turned out to have been one of the ships power cables that had knocked him out. Electrocuted, or whatever the equivalent was of being pumped full of balmera crystal energy and almost dying. Haxus had the cut cable in his hand now, and Lance tensed as it was brought near, but no pain came. Instead the little rings that Lance then recognized as the cuffs Shiro had attached to the galra before leaving for Keith’s watch. They were blackened where the energy arcs connected, like they’d been shorted out, probably by the energy cable, the same one that now charged them back to life.

He tried to argue, even attempted to wrench his hands free despite the galra’s orders, but Haxus snapped the cuffs onto his wrists before he could gain any ground.

“If I am _really_ not a prisoner on this ship, and you _really_ have only my best interests in mind, then you should not be worried about this.” He told Lance, clicking the second set of cuffs into place around his ankles and activating the energy between them. “It’s just a precaution of my own so not to harm you any more if you are, in fact, an ally. Once I’m sure you are telling me the truth, _if_ you are telling me the truth at all, they can be removed. That is reasonable I think.”

Lance didn’t like it at all. His chest clenched with anxiety at the feeling of his hands pulled together behind his back. He wouldn't be able to do much if the galra caught him in a lie and decided to kill him, but there was no more knife and there were no hands on him. He could sit up with a bit of trouble and for the first time, face Haxus fully instead of being held down. It was almost worth it as far as his nerves were concerned. And like this he could finally understand why Haxus was so insistent on keeping him at a disadvantage.

He looked absolutely horrible. His entire body shook like a leaf from either pain or exertion, probably both, and he seemed to be having major problems keeping himself upright, swaying back and forth and struggling to stay perched in a crouch on his one leg even with a hand often going to the ground to stabilize himself. The ‘knife’ that had been the bane of Lance’s existence only moments ago was really nothing but a shard of whatever material the altean data pad displays were made of that Haxus was holding so tight that it had sliced deep into his hand. There were thick lines of indigo blood sliding in steady streams down his arm and all over the floor, mixing with the red of Lance’s own at the very tip. A tip that the galra directed at him as he shoved him away, or at least prompted him to scoot away himself. There was not nearly enough pressure behind the push to move him if he had decided to resist.

Seeing Haxus like this…Lance wasn’t really afraid anymore.

Even cuffed and without his bayard he was positive he could overpower the galra with relative ease as long as the electrocution wasn’t brought back into play. One well-placed kick would probably do it, but he doubted he’d need to do anything like that, not now.

With his free hand, Haxus had reached up to feel around his head for the supposed injury, and had certainly found it if the unrestrained cry that tore out of his throat as he pressed his fingers around the back of his right ear meant anything. After the pain died down and he could peel open his eyes to look at Lance again, he was looking quite a bit more willing to at least listen.

“You fell, inside of the energy core while trying to make repairs or something. You were surprised and fell.”

“You mean I was attacked…”

“Yeah. Surprise attacked. Hey! Stop pressing on it, it’s probably not fully healed yet if it still hurts.” Lance scolded before he could stop himself upon watching Haxus run his fingers over the injured area second time and wince from the resulting pain. Haxus glared at him, but dropped his hand all the same. “Look, I'm not a doctor, but I really don’t think you should be up right now…we really didn’t want to wake you up at all, but we’re kinda in the middle of an emergency and need your help, so we didn’t have a choice, but you should still take it easy, like majorly, at least until someone who actually knows what they’re doing can have a look at you.”

“Nobody will be doing anything with me anytime soon.” Haxus snapped. Something Lance said must have jogged his thought processing, because with one last push to make sure Lance was backed up as far away from the door as possible, the galra snagged his vambrace off the floor and flung it out of the room, then jammed at the doors keypad until its lock engaged. “I’m completely fine.”

If Lance hadn’t already seen how badly he was struggling he would have been inclined to believe the galra based on the certainty of the declaration, but he had, and watching Haxus proceed to topple over when he tried to stand up didn’t do much to strengthen his case. He managed to catch himself at the last minute but was reduced to nothing more than a curled-up ball on the floor for the next minute or so, unable to shake off the pain of even such a minor impact.

He had to resist the urge to scoot toward the panting figure, or even ask if he was okay. Lance figured it wouldn’t be much appreciated, and despite everything the galra still had the data pad shard in his hand. He should probably try to work on that next, he thought. He had no idea how much blood galra could lose before it started to affect them, and there was already so much of it all over the room. It had to be catching up to him.

It was really odd for Lance. He hadn’t expected it out of a galra, he’d figured they’d only get more stubborn, but Haxus was instead a lot more cooperative when he was in pain…just like anyone else. He didn’t snap at Lance when prompted to do something about the injury. He looked irritated at being told what to do sure, but when he could move again he had let go of the shard with only a bit of reassurance that Lance wasn’t going to try to attack him and had gone to the cabinet in search of something to stop the bleeding without fuss. He managed to get the wound cleaned up somewhat but upon trying to use the little handheld version of…whatever made the pods capable of healing, his efforts stalled out. There must have been something wrong with his right arm, because he couldn't seem grip the device tightly enough to keep it steady.

Lance jumped at the opportunity. It took quite a bit of talking and he received more than his fair share of death threats from Haxus, but eventually, he was able to convince the galra to let him help. His hands were uncuffed, then, to his disappointment, but not surprise, re-cuffed in front of him. Again, not really great, but much better than he’d been before. He could certainly defend himself this way if worst came to worst, and, more importantly at the time, he was able to use the healing device to close Haxus’ wound, then bandage the new, tender flesh with soft wrappings, talking quietly with him all the while.

Well, more like talking at him if Lance was honest. Haxus didn’t really offer up much other than to ask for him to repeat things if he got to talking too fast to be easily understood, or for clarification on a detail he no longer had the context to understand. He mostly talked about the other paladins, and a bit about the ship, though he got out of that by claiming honest ignorance. He really had no idea about how to describe where they were beyond ‘deep space’, or technical details about the ship that Haxus began to inquire about once all his urgent questions had been answered to his satisfaction and he started to look like he was genuinely calming down.

Though his eyes never left Lance, and lost almost none of their underlying threat, Haxus’ body had gone lax against the wall as Lance attempted to clean away some of the blood from both of them with what bandages were left over. Even with his suit protecting his hands he could feel the cold of it soaking through, chilling his fingers and, at this point, numbing the skin of his face and neck where he’d realized he’d been completely covered. He hadn’t noticed the extend of the chill he’d picked up from being so close to the freezing galra, probably the adrenaline or something, but now it was hitting him full force, just as uncomfortable and disorienting as his first few moments out of the cryopod had been. Even when all the blood was wiped away and he’d put a bit of distance between himself and Haxus he couldn't stop his teeth from chattering. He had no idea how Haxus was even moving around being that cold, let alone talking to him, even quietly as he was. Lance had to get Coran in to check on him, he couldn't even imagine what kind of damage failing to be thawed could cause, especially on someone already so heavily injured.

“Hey…uh, look, I know you’re worried about all this, but you really need to be checked over by someone who knows what they're doing. There could be something really wrong you know? I’d have no idea…”

He was immediately grabbed by the galra’s injured hand, and while the near nonexistent grip had no chance of holding him in place, the glare those yellow eyes fixed him with more than picked up the slack.

“No. No one else. It’s not safe…”

Lance tried to reason with him, insist that, yes it was safe. Everyone on the ship was safe, but Haxus wasn’t having it, going as far as to honest to god growl at him, not just something tacked on to the end of a word said too harshly, but a full-on _growl_ deep in his chest that made Lance instinctively freeze up.

“You are either lying or deeply mistaken about your friend's good will towards me, I saw them. The one here before you would kill me without hesitation if given the chance. I will not risk being near them as I am now.”

Lance’s eyes widened with surprise. “Who Shiro? Black armor? Wait, you’ve been awake since Shiro’s watch?!”

Haxus nodded. “He did not move from the door once, hardly even looked away. He is dangerous and I…I cannot fight like this…”

The rest of what he was trying to say was lost in translation as he fell back into whatever the language was that messed with the translators, and try as he might, Lance couldn't get a word in. He had no idea if galra facial expressions or body language at all lined up with anything that humans did, and certainly had no idea where this change in behavior was coming from all of the sudden, but the way Haxus’ ears were pinned tightly against his head and the tension in his body didn’t look like it could be anything other than anxiety. Lance knew he couldn't allow it to continue. The only thing more dangerous than someone who was angry was someone who was scared.

Unsure what exactly to do when it became clear that talking wasn’t getting him anywhere, he resorted to giving the galra a quick shake, gentle enough not to irritate any of his injuries or make him feel like he was being attacked, but firm enough to get his attention.

“Look, my watch is only about twenty more minutes, after that we won't have a choice but to tell the others what’s going on, but we can wait until then if you really want to. As long as you think you’ll be fine until then it’s no big deal, alright? We can just…I don’t know, have some juice or something until then.”

Haxus eyed him warily, as if he expected him to make a break for it or something the instant he let his guard down, but eventually his breathing did even out, and his fur stopped looking so puffy.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Lance asked carefully, but without removing his hand from the galra’s shoulder.

“How long is a minute?” He responded after a pause, and Lance couldn’t help but smile at the familiar question and the memories of the reoccurring time conversations/debates with Allura and Coran that were brought to the front of his mind because of it.

“Sixty seconds, like this.” He used his finger to tap out a few seconds against the floor to give Haxus and idea of the scale. “A little bit faster than a tick, if you know what ticks are…do galra use ticks and doboshs and stuff? Or do you have special galra minutes? Man, I hope not, we already have a hard enough _time_ around here with _time_.”

Haxus didn’t laugh at his joke but Lance could have sworn he saw the galra’s mouth twitch up slightly as he mimicked the tapping, and he would certainly be considering it a success.

“My apologies for complicating what must surely be an _absolutely horrible_ and _confusing_ situation further, but yes there are ‘special galra minutes’. We have a bit more than four rahkips before your watch is over. If it makes you feel any better though, I will be fine until then. It is much less time than I expected.”

“Geeze, no need for all that, it was just a joke.” Lance snorted, smile widening at the galra’s tone now that he knew he wouldn't be having to deal with a dead body any time soon. “And hey, you can always make up for being complicated by translating time for me from now on, you did it faster than Pidge….ooohhhh she’s gonna be so mad….it still takes her a little bit to go back and forth, how fast can you do it?...If an hour is sixty minutes, and a minute is sixty seconds, how many galra minutes are in….three hours?”

Lance was aware that he was rambling, and the time really didn’t matter, but it was a light topic, and he had a feeling that light was exactly what was needed. Haxus had slouched back against the wall beside him, looking only slightly like he might kill at a moment’s notice, which was probably the most relaxed he’d been since waking up, and maybe even a bit amused if Lance was reading the situation right, and he was sure he was, because Haxus gave him an answer.

“Thirty-nine rahkips.”

“What about….forty-eight hours?”

“Five hundred and twenty-eight rahkips, ten and a half vreks.”

“Okay, okay… get ready for this….. ninety-four thousand and a half hours!”

At that it looked like Haxus rolled his eyes. It was nearly impossible to tell but the movement looked about right. “You could not confirm my answer to that question if you tried.”

“Oh yeah, what makes you say that?”

“You did not correct my last one. Five hundred should have been six hundred, and ten should have been twelve. A massive mistake, yet you did not catch it despite the simplicity. I could say anything I wanted, and you would never know any better.” Haxus told him with a completely straight face, maybe a bit of a smirk.

Lance could feel his face flush slightly with embarrassment at being caught.

“Yeah well….At least I'm not dumb enough to do math just because someone asked me a stupid question. How about that?”

“No, of course not, only dumb enough to be incapable of answering said stupid question yourself.” Lance’s face flushed further, now there was definitely a smirk. Self-satisfied beyond belief. The bastard.

“You know what? Shut up, Keith already calls me out every other day I don’t need this from you too, I thought we were friends.” He said, jabbing his finger at the galra’s scarred face, which only served to make him look even more amused. “Being good at math is out these days anyway I’ll have you know. In fact, I don’t think it was ever in at all.”

And that was it. Haxus’ laughter was subdued, barely there other than a slight airy sound and shaking, like it was hurting him to do it, but he laughed regardless, curling over from the strain of it until Lance could feel freezing puffs of air against his exposed skin and a solid weight against him as their shoulders collided. Anything Haxus was saying was near incomprehensible, though this time because of his wheezing instead of a language barrier, but Lance though he could make out something like ‘only multiplication and division’, ‘ironic’, and ‘space travel’. He got the gist of it, but really couldn't find it in himself to be truly irritated.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, glad you find all this soooo funny, always happy to entertain, just make sure you leave a tip and maybe try not to make yourself choke.”

It took quite a while, but eventually Haxus calmed down, and the silence that followed was a comfortable one. Lance honestly had nearly forgotten about the cuffs, his attention only drawn back to them when the energy linking them together blinked out and they clicked open, finally allowing him a full range of movement again. Haxus surprised him by doing a quick inspection of his wrists, checking for burns, Lance realized upon noticing the singed fur around the galra’s own wrists. There were marks, heat tracks in the material of his suit from the seemingly malfunctioning cuffs, but his suit had done its job in keeping out the heat.

Once Haxus was satisfied that Lance was alright he flung the sparking cuffs to the other end of the room and snagged the hand-held healing device off the floor with his good hand. He motioned for Lance to give him access to the wound on his neck. He had pressed a piece of the gauze like bandage material to it earlier when he was cleaning up the blood, which had done a pretty good job at controlling the bleeding and had even somehow numbed the pain a bit, but the wound was large. It wouldn't close on its own, and no matter how nervous he was about having galra claws so close to his throat again, he knew he wouldn't be able to do it himself, it went too far back for him to angle the device right. And he certainly couldn't walk out to talk to the rest of the team with a huge, bleeding wound if he wanted them to listen to anything he had to say about Haxus. So, he allowed him close, though with some hesitation that Haxus definitely picked up on.

“They retract you know.” He said, showing Lance the weak right hand, that now didn’t show any sign of the broken, but no less intimidating claws that had been there before. “Besides, they are in horrible condition right now. Hardly dangerous, even to a creature as soft as you.”

Lance was ready to snap his head around and quip back at what was definitely a jab at him, but Haxus was prepared, choosing that exact moment to grip the paladin’s cheek with his weird, freezing fingers to hold him in place, then activate the device. Lance shivered, then inwardly cringed at the feeling of his flesh knitting itself back together under the devices soft pulsing energy. It was downright bizarre, and very tickly, making Lance squirm involuntarily after only the first second or two. No wonder this was normally done while a person was asleep.

“Sooo….does this mean we’re good now though? Like…all the way good?” Lance asked, hoping to distract himself more than anything.

“This means that I am willing to give you my trust for now. It does not extend to the rest of your crew, however. I still do not want them near me unless it’s absolutely necessary. Preferably not at all until I am…more…put together, and able to defend myself.” He said as the device in his hand beeped its confirmation that the wound was healed, and the tickling stopped.

“Yeah…I guess that’s about as much as I can ask for.” Lance sighed, pushing himself to his feet before Haxus could stop him.

He saw the galra go to grab him, and the moment of what looked like panic in his eyes before he realized Lance wasn’t headed to the door, but to a separate cupboard on the adjacent wall. He and Hunk had long since explored the medical bay, and most of the main floors in their free time. These rooms were full of all kinds of great stuff that no one used, most importantly, pillows and blankets they’d all but hoarded into their respective rooms to supplement their sparsely clothed beds, and to occasionally build some amazing forts. He was glad they hadn’t raided this particular room. He didn’t even want to imagine the fit Haxus would have thrown if he’d tried to leave prematurely, even for something for his own comfort.

“Here you go.” He said, unfolding the puffy, white blanket and wrapping it around the galra. “I don’t think this is quiiite big enough for you, but really anything’s probably better than sitting naked and freezing on the floor, at least until we can find you a different one.”

For a second he was sure that Haxus was going to reject it. He was looking at Lance like the paladin had just grown a second head, confused, questioning, nervous, and maybe even a little shocked, but in the end, he said nothing. Only let out a shaky, completely exhausted sigh before taking both ends and wrapping the blanket tighter around himself and curling in his single leg in an attempt to fit it into the small space as Lance settle back down beside him.

Fifteen minutes.

He was going to be fine. 

They were going to be fine.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not really 100% happy with the flow of this but its been /weeks/, so its going up.  
> next chapter will be back to haxus' pov:D and possibly sendak too if i can fit that in:DDDDDD


	4. Calculated Risk

The blanket was a complete loss, its crisp, white fabric soiled beyond saving with his blood and grime the instant he touched it. For a split kip, Haxus absolutely couldn't comprehend the point of the gesture. Even if this creature really did care about his wellbeing, he was clearly not suffering from the ships environment. His own body was far colder than the ambient temperature, and he would only have to abandon it for the coming, dreaded medical examination, which would probably be happening sooner rather than later. But then his brain caught up with what his ears had heard, ‘better than sitting naked and freezing on the floor’, and supplied him with the possibility of Lance’s species having a nudity taboo.

They had no fur, scales, or plumage to speak of. It would make sense, and therefore, him refusing the offer would likely lead to Lance becoming uncomfortable with him. Something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

It turned out to be somewhat beneficial, if only to put an extra layer between himself and the almost overwhelming heat of Lance’s body, which had made him just as uncomfortable as his own chilled blood seemed to have made the alien if their shaking was anything to go by.

Now though, they seemed at ease, resting side by side with him as the two of them drank their hydration pouches. They were making soft vibrations that Haxus at first mistook for some sad attempt at purring for his sake, but quickly realized were actually interconnected sounds, meant to form a tune. The rhythm was odd to his ears but the fluctuations in pitch, length, and stress on the individual sounds gave it away, and soon it became strangely comforting. His mind drifted away easily as the quiet sound reverberated throughout the room to the point where he would have been trying to purr alongside the nonsense tune had his chest not been killing him.

It was a bit uncomfortable, not being able to respond, but it was for the best. Lance was not galran, and no matter how much Haxus’ mind was trying to process the sound as one attempting to comfort, he knew that was more than likely not the case. It was better not to respond. He couldn't risk insult to the only connection he had to anything or anyone and ruining the fragile peace he and Lance had managed to establish. Though, from what he was able to recall about himself, he figured that was probably going to happen eventually, regardless of how carefully he conducted himself.

While he sort of had a sense of himself, his tendencies, and personality, he had little memory of where or why these things came to be a part of him. There were many blurry faces but no names, no home world or kithood or clan. He hadn’t even remembered his own name until Lance had said it in one of the quiet conversations they’d shared while the alien was still restrained and scared. But he did know of the empire. Knew of it in depth.

They were not _personal_ memories. They were more sterile. Memories of experience rather than emotion or attachment. He felt no pull of the deep seated, unshakable loyalty a good soldier was expected to have, nor animosity towards the empire outside of what he figured was a normal amount for anyone under any form of government. He did remember training though. Massive amounts of intense academic training that pointed to a significant Order of Builders rank, but also disjointed but more recent command training that said high ranking imperial soldier. It didn’t make any sense…

But at this point, reason didn’t really matter.

He sighed, gnawing on the end of his straw until his teeth had torn it to ribbons.

Whether he was an overseer or high commander, the only thing that mattered was that he was someone important, with a mind loaded to bursting with fractured bits of knowledge that just screamed classified. Patrol routes for battle fleets, high command access authority codes, secure frequency gateways, refined quintessence and cargo supply lines, locations of quintessence refineries, _druid order research._ The eyes of Emperor Zarkon in the flesh looking down to him from his throne in the central command hub. The cold voice of High Priestess Haggar dismissing him after he’d finished relaying reports on void knows what over a span of what felt like venoks……

He shuddered, and had he been alone, he would have……gotten significantly more upset at the realization that the Emperor and High Priestess were the only two beings in the whole universe he could remember with any sort of clarity. But he wasn’t alone. He was lucky that Lance didn’t seem to register his shaking. He had enough to worry about without having to reassure the alien that he was not dying so that they would not run off to bring the rest of their crew prematurely.

The simple fact was he knew too much, was in too deep. And now he was injured and trapped on a rebel ship, full of rebel soldiers desperate to gain any advantage they could over the empire. He had no idea if the head injury he’d received had affected him beyond his memory, but he felt that his reasoning capabilities were sound enough to come to a solid conclusion that no matter how kind this alien was being to him currently, if he refused, or, more likely, considering the worrying gaps in his memory, was unable to give them what they wanted in full, he was living on borrowed time.

What he was being told was certainly a lie. He’d known immediately just from how the alien had sounded, and the knowledge never left him no matter how much a deeper, more cowardly part of himself wanted to lay back and accept what he was told as the truth. No, he was certainly a prisoner. The alien had only been looking to save their own life, manipulate him while they thought he was at a mental disadvantage into being friendly, and there was nothing he could do about it. Killing them would only bring the wrath of the rest of the crew down on top of him, expediting his death. All he could really do was play along. Let them think that he was falling for their story and hope that he wasn’t falling into some premeditated trap.

Though, he wouldn't quite put something that complex past this particular soldier. Just based on their level of knowledge about basic space travel and the speed at which he was able to take them down even with as much as the odds were stacked against him, they had absolutely no right to be aboard this ship, let alone fighting a war. Haxus was almost positive that it was a child he was dealing with. No, if this whole thing was premeditated, it had to be the work of the soldier in black.

He hoped that wasn’t the case. Because if it was he was damned either way. If he gave away anything useful regarding the empire he would be labeled a traitor. He was injured, disoriented, and distinctly lacking where loyalty was concerned. He knew that if faced with torture he would crack. The cold logic of knowing he would be punished in a worse way later wouldn't be enough to keep him from saving himself in the present. If he ever managed to escape he’d have the entire Galra Empire after him.

And if he gave them what they wanted, he would eventually outlive his use. The soldier in black would decide to dispose of him, eliminate sabotage risk and strain on resources. His flimsy bond with the child, whatever sympathy he’d been able to cultivate so far, wouldn't protect him. If the ruse was premeditated, that meant Lance had been sent in by his commanding officer without thought for their life. If the lives of the black armored soldier’s underlings were as expendable as imperial soldiers were, he didn’t stand a chance at all. He would die a miserable death, at the feet of his enemies.

Unless….

He needed a weapon.

He needed his prosthetic more, he knew he had one, the damaged ports attached to the stump of his right leg made that clear, but there was not much chance of that happening. It was probably long since taken apart and repurposed, studied, or destroyed. The ports also needed repairs, and that would take too long. The rebels would not allow him such a luxury. So, a weapon would have to do.

He would not die helpless and afraid.

There was not much in the room, no blades or other equipment he could easily sneak onto his person, not that he had anywhere to conceal a weapon to begin with, but one problem at a time.

Outside, in the main wing however, there had to be something. He would have to wait until Lance went to get the other soldiers. Hope that the alien was incompetent enough to leave the door unlocked and that he was left alone for long enough to make it out, find something, then come back, hide it somewhere accessible but not obvious, and act as though he had done nothing. It was a lot, but he figured he’d have enough time.

They would need to be convinced that what Lance was attempting to do was even a good idea first off, then if the alien succeeded in that, they would all need to solidify a cover story, be with each other on details on the origin of his injuries, why he was on the ship, who he was to them, etcetera, so not to ‘accidently’ tip him off to their scheme. All things that would take time. That would give him time.

But he had to think quickly.

The alien was moving again. Not away from him yet, not towards the door, but they were giving him attention, and the appropriate amount of time had just about passed.

He didn’t understand their expression, teeth bared violently, but eyes, touch, and voice soft. It was downright confusing, but he did not flinch away. Perhaps they were a fellow warrior race, and threats were made playfully, or to add a customary hard edge to any show of gentleness. Maybe it was not even aggressive at all. Their teeth were blunt, hardly something they could use to enforce any threat effectively. He had no idea, but whatever the case, he didn’t feel like it was dangerous. Even if Lance was a rebel fighter here only to manipulate him, the child was not malicious. He allowed the touch, and for them to move a bit more into his space.

“We got about, two minutes…I probably should get up to the bridge……are…are you good with that?”

Haxus scoffed. “Do I have any other choice?”

Lance’s shoulders rose then fell in another gesture that Haxus didn’t understand. But the noise he made sounded negative. Nothing he didn’t expect. It was fine, he told himself as the alien gave his arm one last squeeze he figured was meant to be reassuring.

“It’ll be fine alright? I’ll be back as soon as I can, and I can even stay with you when Coran comes in to make sure you’re all good if you want.”

Haxus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As if the child’s mere presence would do anything at all to stop the rest of their crew from killing him if they decided that was what was to be done. The thought of having company however, even the company of this alien, who he had only known for fewer rahkips than he could count on one hand and did not trust in the least, was disgustingly comforting.

His immediate impulse was to wave off the concern. Assure Lance that he was perfectly fine on his own, but this wasn’t like the humming. It was a clear, verbal offer of support instead of something he didn’t understand and wasn’t in a position to question. So, he agreed, letting his voice go soft and even shake a bit under the force of his very real pain and exhaustion.

Lance always responded positively to him being distressed anyways, so really there was no reason to cover it up. He was somewhat content with dying as long as he was able to do it fighting, but until death was a certainty, he intended to do everything he could to keep himself alive. No amount of pride would stand in the way of his survival, even if it did feel pathetic to act so weak.

Those thoughts were quickly forgotten however, when he was instantly rewarded for his efforts. The alien’s expression scrunched up with concern and they pressed what remained of their hydration pouch into his hands.

“You got it buddy, no problem. We’re gonna get this all sorted out real soon okay…just stay here and keep still, I’ll be _right_ back.” They reassured as they unlocked the door to leave, but not before pulling the blanket even tighter around his body and trying as hard as he had to make sure all of his limbs were covered.

“Right back!” they shouted back to him they clasped on the pieces of their armor they’re removed before and sprinted off.

Haxus let his eyes fall shut, focusing on sound instead of sight to tell him when the alien was a substantial distance away and the doors had all closed so that any sounds he made would be muffled.

Then he moved.

He flung the blanket aside and with his good arm, pushed himself up. The room whirled around him instantly and if he had not had the forethought to hold onto the wall for support he would have fallen over just like he had before. Really, he almost did despite it, but eventually his vison did clear, and the sick feeling lessened as much as he could possibly make it and he was able to begin his search.

It was slow going, slower than he ever expected, and the sheer amount of pain that he had to contend with just to make it through the door and over to one of the tables nearly made him lose his grip on consciousness. _Gravity_ , his mine supplied, as his knee almost buckled beneath him when he had to move across a large open space in the wide room. He had to be space born, or at least space raised, because the gravity on this ship was near suffocating to try and move around in. Maybe when he was healthy he could shake off the effects without issue, but as he was, bones and muscles weak from injury, it was too much for his body to adjust to.

This was a horrible idea.

There was not much in sight, lots of shelves and cabinets, a few tools strewn about, but nothing that looked particularly dangerous. Drawer after drawer only yielded either more of the same, bandages, or unfamiliar medications.

The deep ache in his bones was intensifying into something fiercer, and as he moved to a different area, it became splintering. The lights were too bright, making the same sharp pain pound behind his eyes until he had no other choice but to take a breather. He hit the floor hard, broken ribs grinding painfully on impact and vision swimming again, but even then, his hands sifted through what storage areas he could reach and his eyes went constantly back to the door. He had to get something, anything for all this effort. But time was up.

It had been too long. Way too long.

He was going to get caught.

He wanted to go back to his room.

He was going back.

That was it.

It was probably one of the quickest decisions he’d ever made, and as soon as he was able to he was moving to make it happen, but by some stroke of luck, the universe aligning around him perfectly just for a kip, he knocked into a panel on the wall as he was pulling himself up.

He hadn’t seen it before, his vision had been too blurred to make out the soft outline in the ships bright light, but upon being touched it lit up. He couldn't quite read the language, but for some reason it was familiar enough for him to follow the prompts and get the door open quickly, revealing….not exactly what he was looking for, but something certainly capable of doing damage.

Syringes. Syringes of all sizes. Sharp, barbaric looking things, like what medical staff used only for low value prisoners. A far cry from the noninvasive tools he’d been taught to use in his own medical training.

Perfect.

He grabbed three, two small and easy to hide, and one larger, with a needle long and robust enough to penetrate through the eyes of one of the aliens and into the brain if needed.

Now that he knew what he was looking for, finding more panels was easy. Most in the surrounding area contained much of the same as the first, but as he made his way back around to the corridor where his room was located he found one containing small vials of an unfamiliar translucent white fluid. He couldn't read the labels, but he figured if it was something worthy of being kept behind its own special panel and not readily available in a cabinet it had to be at least a bit dangerous. So, with some trial, error, and creative stabilizing of his injured arm, he pried the lids free and filled each syringe with the sickly sweet-scented fluid, capped them, then resealed the panel, cleaning up the flecks of dried blood his fingers had left behind on the pristine walls. He had left everything as he’d found it when he searched, nothing was out of place other than what Lance had gotten out before they had opened his door. He was in the clear.

Holding the syringes between his teeth he made the slow trek back to his room, nearly losing consciousness again from the effort it took, but this time with the sweet feeling of success and, at long last, some sense of control and safety to help him push through.

Once he got the door closed he collapsed, beyond exhaustion, cracking his jaw against the unforgiving metal floor when his arms wouldn't support him and almost losing the syringes in the process. He had to crawl the rest of the way back to the little corner where he’d left his blanket, but none of that mattered. The hard part was done. Now all he had to do was hide his weapons.

He couldn't just put them somewhere in the room, it was covered in his and Lance’s blood. They would more than likely move him elsewhere, some other room or containment cell once he was checked over and either cleared or healed further. He had no clothing, not even underclothing to try to conceal them in, so the only option was the blanket. Fortunately, it was meant for a warmer environment, soft and light, with two pieces of fabric stitched together in sections with fluffy material stuffed inside instead of just one large, solid thing. He could open up one of the sections and the stitches would hold the syringes like a pouch. He could keep the incision out of sight easily enough and keep the blanket with him no matter where he went, and as long as the incision was near his hand, his undamaged one, he could easily get to them if worst should come to worst. It was a solid idea.

He shook his head to rid himself of the heaviness pulling his eyelids shut, demanding that he sleep. It didn’t work, but he did manage to clear up his vison a bit more, allowing him to more accurately slice open the stitching on one of the pockets.

The small ones went in without issue, and the larger one only took a bit of wiggling, at least until Haxus widened the opening. The square where they were hidden fit well against his body, between his abdomen and right side, no one should be able to accidentally knock into it, and it was unlikely that anyone would look closely enough to notice the slightly odd shape, not with the remains of his leg being a nearby and much more interesting target for one’s gaze, especially with how mangled it looked with the damaged ports.

Everything was in place, he was good to go.

Haxus was just beginning to get his wind back when a horrible realization washed over him.

Cameras.

No ship was ever without them, and he hadn’t even considered it before taking off like an idiot to arm himself. The rebels had probably watched the entire thing from the bridge. They had to have had. He was a prisoner. Not coded into the ships system when he’d accessed that panel. It would have definitely pinged. Unauthorized access. The footage would go directly to the head of security, and then probably to the bridge, to whoever was in charge. To the soldier in black.

He was such an idiot.

Such an absolute _idiot._

His teeth began chattering without him realizing, the horrible clicking deafening in the silent room. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stop it, embarrassed and ashamed, but let go almost immediately in favor of getting a firm grip on the big syringe. It wasn’t like there was anyone here to see his fear, these aliens probably wouldn't recognize the display in the first place, or even care.

There was no sign that anyone was coming yet, so he still had time to figure out further defense. The power cable was still on the floor. That could be useful, maybe even kill one of the aliens if he had a chance at keeping prolonged contact. If nothing else it would stun them, making them easier to dispatch with the syringe. He might even be able to dig deeper into the hole in the wall, maybe find a way to knock out power to the room, or even the whole wing if he was lucky. Give himself the advantage of darkness. Without power there wouldn't be any cameras either, they wouldn't be able to watch him, to know exactly where he was in the room when they entered and how to counter him, but….but…

But what if the cameras were already down…..

No one had come for him in the time that he was searching…….

No one had come when he’d attacked Lance either…..the alien had been required to go and speak to the rest of their crew in person…..

Maybe the ship didn’t even have an automated security system. It was certainly an old ship… _very old_ if the medical equipment and wiring was anything to go by….maybe feed monitoring was manual. Maybe he had been on the ship long enough to no longer register as an intruder, he didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, how many times he’d been moved or what they’d been doing with him. They might not even _have_ cameras, rebels often went without basic necessities and technologies….He just didn’t know, didn’t have enough information on the ship, on the crew, and certainly didn’t have the advantage of any sort of former context. There was absolutely no way he could come to any sound conclusion about what kind of thereat he was facing, or if there was even a threat at all. 

Maybe no one had seen him….

The doors were all still unlocked, he wasn’t contained, there were no crew or even anything akin to sentries coming, he would have heard them. There was nothing. Maybe he had just over-thought….. Stressed himself into a panic over nothing. The crew was small, no more than seven based on what Lance had told him, and they would be occupied right now….He was probably fine. He’d have to watch their behavior closely, once they came back, to be completely sure, and he would certainly be keeping his hand closer to his weapons now, but more than likely he was still clear. As long as he could keep calm, keep making them think that he was falling for their ruse.

Then, being caught with the syringes might even be arguable. If he was a ‘friend’ of theirs, why would they worry about him being armed? That wouldn’t make sense at all, would blow their entire story if they refused him weapons. Because then it would be clear to any fool that they didn’t trust him. They wouldn’t have a choice but to let him remain armed. Maybe even give him real weapons.

Though that was only if they decided to listen to Lance at all……

Frustrated, he clamped a hand over his mouth again, ridding himself of the obnoxious chatter of his teeth. There had to be something wrong with him. Something going on with his head injury making him feel so on edge, it couldn’t be normal. He’d been through interrogation resistance training, and he had a very strong feeling that this was not his first time being in a situation like this. He knew what to expect, and yet he was still afraid, frantic even. No soldier would be allowed into a command position of any kind with the levels of emotional instability he was exhibiting. It didn’t make any sense unless it was a symptom.

Carefully, so not to hurt himself any more than he already had, he curled himself back up, pulling his trembling leg as tightly to his chest as he could manage without his injuries protesting so that he could rest his head against it. His own body was colder than any of the surrounding surfaces, so the contact felt amazing against his throbbing temple, even though the fur. Like this he was small enough for the blanket to be pulled over his head, shielding his eyes from the rooms lights. It was just enough to quiet his racing thoughts. To shut him off from the situation he was trapped in, if only visually. It was perfect, just for the moment.

He worked on slowing his pulse down, trying to take slow, deep breaths instead of erratic and shallow, focusing on his own scent instead of the sterile and unfamiliar scent of the rebel ship to ground himself. Even if he did smell disgusting. Like every bit of filth a planet could offer and grease and ash and blood, both his and not. But….also something else. He almost didn’t notice it at first, it was so…so familiar, so entangled with his own he knew he had to be close to whoever it belonged too.

His mind wandered instantly to the faces he could recall.

There were still no names, or…much of anything, no matter how long he pondered or tried to force it. But there were flashes of faces that he could almost see clearly in his mind if he tried very hard, some soft and familiar enough that he immediately recognized them as family, parents and elders and clanmates. Smaller adolescents that had to be siblings or perhaps kits of others in his clan, as he knew he absolutely wouldn't have any on his own, and weirdly, many versions of his own face, some serious, almost somber, and others vibrant and mischievous, fur patterned with the brightest of pigments that immediately brightened his mood, even if he was unable to imagine ever choosing red of all colors for himself.

Red……

He remembered a good deal of red. Red armor. Commanders armor. Hundreds of nameless, faceless soldiers that he could hardly envision at all. And one with red eyes.

No…one red eye. Cybernetic.

A soldier with a face marred by war that almost anyone might find terrifying, but that instantly made Haxus feel better. Calmer, more confident, and safe.

He drew in a deep breath and smiled softly to himself, finally connecting the foreign scent to a face. His commander, and very likely more.

There was still no sign of movement anywhere outside of his room, not a sound in the wing, so, picking languidly at the dried blood caked into the fur on his face and chest in a sad attempt at grooming, he let himself fall further into thought. He tried thinking of other faces relating to his clan, maybe the commander was a kithood friend. He had a unique look, definitely from a powerful, undiluted clan, perhaps even one of the esteemed high war-clans, and while Haxus didn’t know the status of his own clan, it was unlikely that he would have been able to attain a rank any higher than captain without being from the warrior caste. Perhaps their clans were close, that would be the most reasonable explanation.

It was either that or that, somehow, they were mates…

 _Very unlikely_ , Haxus knew. Fraternization between ranks was forbidden, and strictly enforced when it came to those carrying ranks of captain or higher. The commander was not only higher in rank, and probably caste, but he was Haxus’ direct superior. Relations between them being discovered could cost both of them their ranks and careers _if they were lucky_ , and while Haxus couldn't find it in himself to actually care, there was no way someone from a high war-clan would risk it.

But Haxus was nothing if not creative and in no mood to deny himself a bit of comfort, so just for a moment he discarded reason and imagined what it might be like to always have such a powerful but safe presence by his side. How it would feel to be curled tightly against his body at the end of a long rotation. The squeeze of his arms and press of his head against his once they were finally reunited. Even if Haxus remembered nothing of him, his mate would no doubt know everything about him, and together they could rebuild.

 _Oh!_ He though, fur fluffing. _His family would be so very proud of their match, he would probably never hear the end of it once everything was sorted and they could make things official._

He huffed out a laugh at the wild contrast of his own imagination, terrorizing him with worst case scenarios one rahkip, then bringing him peace with thoughts like this one that were so vivid they almost felt real. He hoped they were real…they were such nice thoughts to entertain…

Eventually, despite the pain, a soft purr rumbled up and out of his chest and his eyes began to drift shut. He knew he shouldn’t risk it, not with head trauma. Not to mention the aliens could be back any kip, possibly prepared to end him, but he couldn't help himself. He'd been exhausted from the moment he had woken up, his body dumping every bit of his energy into healing and trying to adapt to the warmer, high gravity, dense atmosphere environment. Fighting with Lance, then dragging himself all over the medical bay with only one leg had completely sapped whatever reserves were keeping him going. His weapons were there for when he would need them, and it was so soft and cool curled up as he was. He was content with the knowledge that he had family, and possibly a mate, waiting for him, maybe even looking for him, and the room was comfortably dark with the blanket shielding his eyes. His body hardly hurt at all anymore……..

 

He must have dozed off. He wasn’t sure for how long he was out, but the next thing Haxus knew there was someone touching him. A gentle hand on his shoulder nudging him awake that, despite the owner’s clear attempts at not startling him, Haxus jumped away from anyway. The face of the alien above him was completely unfamiliar for a frighteningly long amount of time, and he almost drew one of his weapons as the alien bared its teeth at him, but then the creatures scent hit him.

 _Lance_.

That was who this was.

The alien he’d attacked, and then who had promised to stay with him.

Those memories came rushing back. This expression of theirs was not dangerous.

He pulled his hand out of the pocket, away from the syringes carefully as he returned the aliens greeting as best as he could, which really wasn’t all that great.

“Ahh, I should have said something, I don’t think you’re really supposed to sleep with head injuries, but I guess nothing can be done now, I mean other than medical attention. And about that, do you think you can get up? Like, by yourself? Coran says you gotta get back on your cot, so he can run the scans or whatever. What do you think?”

Haxus for the life of him could not keep up what the alien was saying they were speaking so fast. The words were all wound and slurred together, completely unintelligible at some points especially with the intense heaviness that had now spread from his eyes to the rest of his body to contend with. They were clearly on edge though, which instantly made Haxus on edge as well. There was a lot of noise outside of the door. The murmur of voices, the shuffling and scuffing of armored feet, it sounded like a lot more than five other soldiers…

Lance must have noticed his attention turn to the door, because they began speaking again, slower and softer. Reassurances that their crew wouldn't come in until he was ready, and only those that absolutely needed to. That he didn’t need to worry about that, only about what was going on right now. It took a kip, and a bit more prompting from Lance for him to figure out what he exactly he was supposed to be doing, but once he did the task seemed simple enough. Get himself from the ground where he lay, to the cot he had started out on. Easy in theory, but the instant he attempted to move the short distance seemed just as daunting as his mad dash for weapons had before. He knew he probably wouldn't be able to do it on his own, and of course, he was right.

He struggled for almost half a rahkip trying to get upright again, but no matter how hard he tried his traitorous body now finally refused obey him. His damaged arm was so weak that it could support no weight, giving way at even the slightest hint of pressure uselessly until he pulled it back against his chest. And while he was no longer in any pain and was sure his leg was not broken, it might as well have been for how numb it felt when he finally got it under him. He could almost keep his balance, but his knee buckled before he managed to push himself out of a crouch.

Haxus thought that with Lance’s help he might have been able to at least make it to the edge, then pull himself up with his good arm somehow, but the alien, no matter how patient, helpful, and encouraging, was also small. Tall and lean like Haxus himself, but without any of the underlying strength from venoks of physical training and combat. Lance could not move him like he required, and so he was forced to admit defeat.

“Hey it’s no problem, really.” Lance told him with a careful pat on the back as he settled back down against the wall, out of breath. “Uhh, okay…you’re probably not gonna like this but we gotta get someone else in here…You okay with that right now? I don’t think Coran’s outside with his equipment yet…but I could get Hunk…you remember Hunk, right?”

Once he dissected what was said to him, Haxus felt his hearts begin to race again at the thought of someone else coming into the small room, seeing him struggling, _touching him_. To his horror he could only recall the things Lance had told him before in fragments. The conversation was missing large chunks, completely devoid of anything about a ‘Hunk’. But it was either this choice or a worse one, risking inconveniencing and irritating the doctor with his resistance to previously offered aid, which he was not keen on doing considering this person would be deciding how well he recovered, or if he would be allowed to recover at all. So, forcing his lips to form coherent words, he told Lance yes, and that he didn’t mind another person.

The alien looked at him oddly, but accepted his answer. They left not long after, but not before warning him sternly not to move an ‘inch’, as if he was capable of moving at all.

The door hissed open with their departure, flooding the room with deafening noise that made him curl in on himself once again, but it didn’t last. Not a half kip later the room was blessedly silent. He couldn't push himself back into the corner where he really wanted to be, but also couldn't support himself sitting up for any longer without Lance holding him, so he opted to just lay down on the floor. His blanket was close enough to snag and place under his head and over his eyes, with his uninjured hand on his weapons for good measure as an argument reached his ears.

He couldn't comprehend a word of it. It was too far off to bother with anyway.

He knew that he should bother. There was something wrong, he shouldn’t be so tired…

No…he was too tired to be bothering with things.

He just wanted to sleep.

Just for a kip, then he would deal with things.

Just for a kip….

There was noise again, closer, but he didn’t open his eyes. Not until there was something touching him, then practically pulling him up to sitting position while shouting loud enough to rattle his eardrums.

_“Oh my god why won’t he wake up, I thought you said he was fine?!”_

_“I don’t know Hunk, he was…okayish before I came and got you guys! He said he was fine and we were talking and everything, and then I come back and he's just….I’m pretty sure he was still fine? He was just, I don’t know, I guess he was slurring, but he was asleep when I came in! Like…that’s normal right? I do that all the time!”_

_“Look, his mouth… he's bleeding, why’s he bleeding?? Holy quiznak Lance!”_

_“I-I that was already there! He didn’t… didn’t say anything so I didn’t think…ah shit just…go get Coran, hurry up! Shiro! What do we do?! I don’t- I don’t know what to do…”_

_“Yeah, Shiro! We really need some help in here!”_

_“Move!”_

Haxus flinched, finally pulling his eyes open. That voice was too loud, the room was too bright, he could hardly see the people hovering over him, but he could make out colors. Blue, yellow, and black. Black was coming toward him quickly, reaching out…

He tried to say something, warn them to keep away, but his tongue was heavy in his mouth and his throat wouldn't work enough to form anything more than a low, pitiful whine. There wasn’t anything he could do. He tried to reach for a syringe, but not even his uninjured arm would respond. The next thing he knew the alien had lifted him up off the floor with a grunt of effort, wobbling slightly but still managing to support his entire weight with only a bit of strain as he carried him out of the room and toward the central chamber.

_“Pidge, get one of those pods open!”_

Another soldier, wearing green armor and no bigger than a venok old kit, responded, running ahead and priming a what looked like a stasis pod that had appeared from the floor. The pods barrier dissolved as Black reached it and placed him inside with a level of gentleness that surprised him.

_“Ok, how do we….Coran! Coran, we need to run a scan, something’s wrong with him.”_

Another figure appeared from a stairwell on the other side of the room, arms full of a large amount of unknown medical equipment that was quickly abandoned.

_“What happened paladins? I was only gone for a tick!”_

_“I don’t know Coran. Lance came out to get Hunk to help move him to the table like you asked, went back in and he was like this. His eyes are open now but he won't respond to anything.”_

_“Now that doesn’t make any sense…His head injury wasn’t completely healed but it wasn’t immediately life threatening either….”_

The pod hummed around him, a soft light gliding over his body for a kip before going dark again.

_“Oh, now that’s very odd…”_

_“What? What’s wrong with him? Is he gonna die?”_

Lance was back, pushing to the front of the clustered group of little soldiers.

_“His sedative levels are high…almost as high as when we had him in the pod before…”_

_“Is that bad? Like, life threatening bad?”_

_“Well…He’s certainly survived higher levels, so I’d have to say no… I mean there can be complications and I wouldn't ever recommend someone be left under sedation unsupervised, but his scans show he’s fine other than previous injuries. Probably just a malfunction in the thawing process…left over from the galra crystal energy corruption, I don’t remember if I ever get around to checking the pods down in wing five…and he certainly hasn’t been the easseiest paateint…”_

_“So hesgonnabe alridhg..?”_

_“Ofcourss, justneed to run the wakingseq uenceagain……..purge thesedative…..fromhis bod y….”_

Haxus blanked, struggling and failing to pull his eyes open and pay attention to what the alien was saying. The words were too mushed together and slow, more sound than anything. Hums in the background as he began to drift off again, comfortable in the cool weightlessness of stasis, at least for a bit. No sooner than he'd managed to reach a point where he could really fall asleep a tingling started up at the back of his head, then moving inward, like it was traveling across his brain then down his spine, spreading to the rest of his body, to all the places where it had hurt before. Like there was something on him, crawling, tugging on his skin and burrowing into his bones.

He was a good deal more than startled, hands shooting out to rake his claws through his fur, to get whatever it was off him, but a rough tap on the barrier of the pod got his attention. Both Black and the alien who had showed up with the medical equipment spoke to him, muffled but firm voices warning him against any further clawing at himself. It was just the pod. Healing. He had to stay calm. They hadn’t wanted to put him back in the pod, and certainly didn’t want to put him to sleep again. They needed him awake. To be calm and stop his body from trying to fight the process, or else it wouldn't work, just like last time. But that was easier said than done.

Black was way too close to him for comfort. If the pod barrier wasn’t there the alien could reach out and touch him, and there was a lot of other people in the room packed in too close around him. But Lance was also nearby, just behind Black. They were smiling…..showing him….their thumb? with one hand, and with the other, rudely trying to shove Black aside so they could get to the front.

“It should only be a few minutes Haxus, you’ll be feeling better in no time.” They said.

He took a slow, discreet breath, and balled his hands into fists so that he couldn’t claw before smiling. Back at Lance of course, who look absolutely overjoyed by the small gesture, but also to himself. Black didn’t look angry at the younger soldier, didn’t snap at them or order them back into place. Not even a glare.

It seemed he had been mistaken about the alien’s temperament. Badly mistaken. And that did more for him than any of his previous reasonings or Lance’s assurances. They were more anxious than hostile, fingers tapping incessantly at their datapad as they waited for the pod to finish. More than once they inquired as to how he was. Both from the alien monitoring the pods interface, and directly from Haxus himself, looking pleased and calmed by each positive response. Black would not kill him. Not in front of their child soldiers or when they finally left, nor out of hatred like he’d previously assumed would happen eventually. They had a vested interest in his survival. One that Haxus didn’t understand, but could now easily recognize. It was unlikely he would even be hurt.

All of the sudden it felt like he could see more than catastrophe.

His blanket, his weapons were beside the pod, undiscovered and in reach for him to grab once he was out. The sedative inside would need to be disposed of before he could inhale more of the fumes, but perhaps the needles themselves could be salvaged.

Green was carrying clothing, a white body suit and the boots of a lieutenant commander’s custom issue flight suit. He would have more between him and their weapons than just his fur.

The pod was working. He was still exhausted, but no longer felt sedated, and there was only mild pain no matter how he flexed or pressed or twisted.

He could take deep, full breaths now.

And most importantly, he felt clear. His memories were not coming back but what he had left was more accessible, and he could now think without being lured off on unreasonable tangents or indulging intrusive thoughts that did nothing but make him anxious. Already he was putting things together that hadn’t even occurred to him earlier.

None of it was good. In fact, things were looking pretty bleak for him outside of the goings on aboard this ship, and there were a hundred other things that simply didn’t make any sense at all, but now at least, he would be able to start working towards his long-term survival.

The pod opened, and he hesitantly allowed Black helped him out. He snatched his blanket up off the floor before anyone had a chance to try and grab it for him. The other alien, Coran, asked him a series of questions meant to assess his mental state in relation to the injury, most of which he was now able to answer without issue. They were concerned with the memory loss and the damaged ports on his leg. It was sheer luck that Lance seemed to have forgotten about his arm. Its function had improved from his time in the pod, but his grip was still weak. He’d seen the pod’s progression scans of it though, all but crushed under him during the fall, or whatever had happened to him. The nerves were probably shot, too far gone for healing pods as old as the ones on this ship to fix. He’d probably have to have it reconstructed, maybe even removed later.

He really hoped it wouldn't come to that, but it was useless to bring up now. There was no need for them to be aware of another point of weakness. Not a real one at least.

He used the time they allowed him to clean himself up to refine the details of how he would be conducting himself and lay the pathways toward his tentative goals. He had no idea what they might ask of him, so he could make no specific plan yet. That would have to be done as the situation revealed itself, but there was plenty he could prepare for and consider in the meantime.

First and foremost, he needed to buy time. Keep his head down, regain his strength, and collect more information. Figure out exactly what he was dealing with before making any irreversible decisions. Avenues for this were easy to come by. Anything from fabricated issues with his injuries to full blown sabotage of the ship were viable options. He only needed the right opening.

Now that he knew his rank he could more convincingly deny it. Downplay combat experience while emphasizing intelligence. An Order of Builders rank would do as the last thing he remembered. Perhaps a specialist, science officer, or some other intersectional rank to explain his presence so far away from an outpost, station, or central command if any of the aliens knew enough about imperial ranks to call him out.

That, combined with his missing leg would keep the threat he posed in their eyes low and his usefulness high. It would be easier to build positive relations with more of the soldiers that way. He would be safer once that was done and probably allowed more freedom and privacy as well, and that would be good for him all around.

There would need to be a delicate balance between willingness to comply and reasonable resistance, very possibly even an obvious desire to advance objectives of his own. Or else they might become suspicious.  

He needed his leg. He would need to present that as an essential part of him being able to complete whatever task they required of him in regard to their emergency.

He needed backup if he could manage it. Drones he could get his hands on and reprogram discreetly, or perhaps even construct. Reliable surveillance and unfiltered information would be invaluable.

He needed to find his commander. It hadn’t occurred to him in his earlier ridiculous fantasizing, but they shouldn’t have been separated. Protocol in the event of their ship going down would have them sticking close together, along with the rest of the crew. Strength in numbers. They would be safer and better able to move forward in accomplishing whatever mission they’d been assigned that way. The fact that he was alone was a worst case scenario and would need to be addressed as quickly as possible.

Not to mention that whatever had happened to get him into the mess that he was in currently had to have impacted his commander just as bad, if not worse. He would be facing most of the wrath of the Emperor for his failure or betrayal or capture as the higher ranked individual. While there was a slight chance Haxus might be able to get out with his reputation, rank, and life intact, his commander would certainly not. And if he really were someone he had intended to make his mate, allowing that to happen was not acceptable. He would not leave him behind to be killed.

Lastly, he would need a ship. Once he was able to think again he had realized that he was not a member of the warrior caste as he had previously suspected. His accent, his entire native language was that of someone who had grown up and lived around aliens, someone from the common caste. In a way it was a good thing. At least he did not have to worry about his clan disowning him for whatever he had done to land himself in his position, but he also could not, under any circumstances, go back to them. Not without knowing what he had done and if the empire was actively searching for him. His home colony or station would be the first place searched, and harboring traitors and deserters was punishable by death, and even if he was neither, they would not have the financial or social leverage to defend him anyway. Despite the obvious hurt that would come from the both his and his income’s absence, it would be better for them if he simply disappeared. At least for a few venok. 

His commander’s clan was out of the question. The exact opposite of a safe harbor in fact. A high war clan would not tolerate a failure in their midst. They would be in contact with the empire as soon as they could manage. That was simply how they all were.

So, he would need something fast and durable. Something that could get the two of them to the edges of the empire as fast as possible. As far away from Emperor Zarkon as they could manage with whatever GAC and weapons they could get their hands on. That was the only way two people with ranks like theirs stood a chance at survival if they were traitors or deserters. And with his commander either still in stasis with injuries worse than his own, mistrusted enough by the aliens not to be let out, marooned, or in hiding somewhere, unable, or more likely, unwilling to act against the empire even to save his own life, responsibility for their continued survival fell solely onto his shoulders.

 

Oh, how _lucky_ he was.

 

Haxus powered down the shower, letting the last few cool sonic pulses soothe away what tension was left in his muscles before pulling on the clothing that had been given to him. The suit was all but useless. Air thin to the point that he worried his claws, even blunted as they were, might tear thought at any moment if he wasn’t careful. It was probably for nothing more than maintaining modesty within the medical bay, he thought with a huff. It was also uncomfortable paired with the dark, heavily armored boot of a flight suit. He hardly managed to tighten it enough so that there was no gap where the material would normally merge and seal with the rest of a flight suit. The three syringes were sitting snug inside. Carefully cleaned, recapped, and well within reach just in case. They aided in filling out the extra space, but still, the knee guard was resting uncomfortably, and with the suit as thin as it was he could feel it rubbing the instant he moved. The bracings would probably tear though the material within rahkips too….

At least he only had one leg’s worth of discomfort to deal with, he thought, tying off the right leg of the suit so that it wouldn't dangle and trip him up. The other boot was destroyed. The nanites threaded into the metal were still trying to make repairs, but it was a lost cause. He’d have to do it by hand later once he figured out what to do about the missing limb and needed the second boot again. One more thing on an ever-mounting list.

Haxus didn’t feel like struggling any further to move on his single leg, so, after disposing of his bloodied blanket, he allowed Black and Yellow to assist him to another recovery room, only differing from the first by the fact that it looked to be for someone his size, with an actual bed large enough for him to be comfortable, and ample space, just big enough so that when each of the little soldiers filed in behind them it only felt a bit cramped.

Black was practically vibrating out of their armor with anticipation by the time he finally prompted them to proceed with the interrogation, or whatever they decided to call it.

“One of our crew…one of our friends was taken by the galra when a mission went bad, and we need your help to get her back.” They said, going still and serious.

“Okay…” _Basic infiltration and asset retrieval, depending on the ship or base and value of the prisoner to whatever commander oversaw her containment it could be anywhere from horribly easy, to mildly irritating. But at the end of rotation, nothing he couldn't accomplish._ “I will need a bit more than that to do anything for you. We will first need to find her….”

“We already have her location.” Black interrupted. “We only need you to tell us how to get in.”

They handed him the datapad.

One glance was all it took to make him feel like the atmosphere had been blown from the ship.

 

 

*****

 

 

Shiro didn’t know what exactly to expect from Haxus, but he didn’t hold out much hope for a good end.

It didn’t matter how well behaved the galra acted with Lance after he had calmed down. That could have been from anything. From the injury, from the situation. They probably would never know, but whatever it was it could very well be overridden by asking him to betray his own people. Haxus could try to kill them, he could try to escape, or he could refuse to speak to them further no matter what they did. In any case they would put him back into a pod and be done with the whole ordeal. They would go back to struggling until they came up with something on their own. It would be disappointing. A complete waste of time. But in Shiro’s opinion, probably for the better. No chance in him leading them into a trap or betraying them the instant he had the opportunity to do so.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Instead Haxus was just…quiet.

Absolutely silent, holding the datapad loosely in his hands and staring at the image of Zarkon’s central command hub with a blank face.

“Sooo….do you know anything about that place? Or…do you not remember it? Can you help us get in even if you don’t? Maybe it’s similar to another base you do know about? Or like…you’re smart enough to just know how to do it? What do you think? Or are you still thinking about it? Take your time…But like….What are you thinking? Right now? Anything good?” Lance started babbling after a bit, climbing up to sit close to the galra before Shiro could stop him so he could look at the datapad too.

“Look, you don’t have to give us a full-blown entry plan right here, right now. We can do that on our own, we just need a push in the right direction. Anything could end up helping. Just…let us know anything that you’re thinking if you can.” Shiro said, regaining control of the situation before Lance could start up again.

“Anything I'm thinking….” Haxus said slowly, voice again thickly accented. Not like before, when he was out of it, just like…he’d simply forgotten to correct it.

“Yes. Anything you can remember or know. We even have some ideas already that we could bounce off of you….”

“I’m thinking that I had better be hallucinating this right now.”

“I…Wait, what?” Shiro responded, stunned.

“You heard me.” he growled, shoving the datapad into Lance’s hands and leveling Shiro with a hard look. “This better be my brain injury bleeding for reasons unknown, making me hallucinate you asking me to break someone out of _the_ central command hub of the largest and most powerful empire in the known universe as it slowly kills me.”

“Haxus this isn't a joke.” Keith said before Shiro could recover. “When Lance said emergency, he meant it. Your bones were _sticking out of your body_ in multiple places before you went into that pod. We wouldn't have woken you up if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“This is not an emergency.” Haxus hissed, turning his sharp eyes towards Keith. “This is an absolute _disaster_! If she was taken to central command your chances of ever seeing her again are next to none. You have to realize that, right? If you are considered a significant enough threat for one of your own to be taken directly to central command upon capture you are certainly not new to the life of a rebel. You should know very well how these things work. She is gone. And if she is not, then Emperor Zarkon is using her as bait to draw the rest of you in. I don’t know what exactly you think I can do for you, or why you are even considering a rescue at all.”

Shiro knew they would be flying headfirst into a trap. And he was sure most of the others knew it too, or at least had a feeling, but hearing it out loud, confirmed by someone from the inside was harder than he expected it to be.

“We aren’t considering anything. Trap or no trap, leaving Allura there isn't an option. We’re doing this with or without your help. Things would just go a lot smoother if it was with though.” Shiro told him, forcing down the fresh wave of guilt that had washed over him.

“If it’s Zarkon’s fleets you’re worried about, it might help to know that firepower won't be an issue. We’re more than capable of repelling attacks, at least for a little while. Trust me on that.” Keith told him. “We really do need nothing more than a point of entry, some way to get close to the base without being detected so we can run a scan for Allura’s energy signature without being attacked. Maybe some on what kind of defense we might encounter inside in case some of us end up having to go in on foot as well, but other than that we can handle this on our own. We could be in an out in less than thirty minutes. Fifteen if you’re wrong and we do manage to take them by surprise….”

“You won't.”

“… _And_ , like Shiro was saying, we already have some ideas. Well…one idea. Coran?”

Coran had already explained his idea to Shiro, he’d grabbed Keith, who quickly picked up what was going on and they had been on the verge of letting everyone else know when Lance had come bursting through the doors demanding their full attention. Shiro hadn’t had hardly had time to process the idea before he was pulled into the debate on how to proceed with Haxus, and then the planning of the cover story. At the time though, hiding the castle within one of the gas giants seemed viable. They’d have the time they’d need to run a scan to get a fix on Allura’s position, and then to form Voltron without fear of attack. The galra wouldn't know they were there until they were already tearing through the fleet. He was prepared to commit then, even more so now upon hearing Coran explain it again to Haxus. He’d clearly been thinking about it. There were exact numbers now, coordinates, the depth they would need to be into the planets atmosphere to be out of sight of emission scans and still be able to find Allura. He sounded so certain. 

But of course, Haxus was again unimpressed. He cut Coran off midsentence, shooing him away with a smile condescending enough that it would have made Shiro’s blood boil if not for the equal amounts of exhaustion clear on his face.

“You people really have no idea what you are dealing with do you? All this talk about approach. _Approach_ this, _entry_ that, void take it did you even _read_ these schematics? _Can_ you even read these schematics?”

“ _Yes_ , we did, for the past few hours actually, and Coran’s calculations are correct. As long as we’re deep enough within the planet’s atmosphere we won't be detected. I don’t see what the problem is other than you not wanting to go.” Keith snapped, hands balling into fists at the galra’s tone.

“Well apparently your reading comprehension skills need work. It is a sound idea, and your friend’s calculations are stellar, but what I would like to know is what you plan to do once the shield goes up.”

“I…wait, what shield?”

The smile Haxus gave her was nothing but teeth and Shiro couldn't help the chill that ran up his spine because of it.

“There we go, finally some decent uncertainty. Let me show you what you’ve missed.”

Haxus’ fingers dance over the datapad, quickly commandeering the larger wall display and projecting the schematics for them all to see. Initially it looked no different. Multiple rings, the gas planets, and the large central command station right in the center, but Haxus knew his way around the data. Within seconds the model was shifting, and then the entire hub, rings and planets included was engulfed by a massive circular shield that had to be at least an AU in diameter, if not more.

“Fourth generation thermo-gravitational over shielding. Built specifically to disrupt all forms of faster than light travel. Listed in the miscellaneous category instead of the more reasonable defense or even weaponry with the anticipation that these schematics could be stolen by rebels looking to attack central command because while it can certainly operate as defensive shielding, its main purpose is to trap would be attackers close to the hub so that they may be eliminated in full by the hubs weaponry or its fleets. So, as you can now see, your issue is not getting in, its getting out. And trust _me_ when I say, there is no way out once this shield is activated. Well, other than dying, and I'm assuming you all will be wanting to avoid that.”

Shiro watched as Coran’s face gradually grew paler and paler as Haxus went on. He felt like he was missing something that Coran wasn’t, but he figured there had to be a way to break through. If not with the castle, then with Voltron. They hadn’t run across anything galra made so far that they couldn’t take out with the right amount of force, a fact he brought up to Haxus, while of course carefully avoiding mentioning Voltron. But once again it was to no avail.

They wouldn't be able to wormhole through the shield anymore than they’d be able to wormhole through a star. That thermo-gravitational thing wasn’t just part of the name for show. It was how the shield operated. It wasn’t a partial barrier, but instead more like a stretched and well contained star. The heat would vaporize anything on contact, and the immense gravity made calculating the vector of their wormhole jump impossible. Too much distortion, too many variables. According to Haxus there weren’t even galra supercomputers that could do it, so Shiro knew the ten thousand year old nav tech on the castle ship certainly wouldn't cut it.

The shield could be disabled from the inside, but they would need the password, which technically they could get around with some work and the right skillset. But, whoever was there also needed to be able to operate within the bounds of galra biometric security, anything else would take too long. That excluded Pidge and Coran, Leaving Shiro and Haxus. _But_ , whoever it was would be staying behind. There was no way for that person to make their way back out of the ship for extraction before the shields were brought back online. It was a one-way trip, and Haxus made it very clear that it wasn’t going to be him going in, so that entire option was completely out the window.

He wouldn't say it in front of the team, he hardly wanted to admit it to himself, but if everything Haxus was telling them was accurate, they were _fucked_. 

Keith had been right. They shouldn’t go on this mission. They _would_ be essentially delivering Voltron to Zarkon, killing themselves and damning the rest of the universe in the process, and they couldn’t do that. That isn't what Allura would want.

“So…so what? She’s just gone?” Lance asked, not even bothering to hide the wobble in his voice or blink the tears out of his eyes as he looked to Shiro, and then to Haxus.

“Yes. There is nothing you can do, or that I can do for you now. It is out of our hands. The faster you accept that easier things will be for you.” He said, face impassive once again.

 

 

*****

 

 

Black’s expression was all over the place. Haxus for the life of him could not pin it down, nor did he have the time. The alien wheeled around and stormed out of the room not long after the galra finished speaking. Red though, Red he could read clean. They were expressive, extremely so. Face and body language shifting from anger, to hurt, fear, disbelief, hopelessness, guilt, then back to anger, all in the span of a half kip, before they turned as well to follow their leader off to wherever they had gone with green hot on their heels.

Lance was still beside him, crying without a sound as the doctor tried to console them even though the other alien looked to be on the verge of losing it themselves. He didn’t even realize Yellow was still in the room until the solider spoke up they were so quiet.

“Are you _sure_ there’s no way we can do this? Like really, _really sure_?” they said softly, desperately. But Haxus wouldn't be swayed.

There were plenty of ways into central command if one was patient enough, cunning enough, and willing to put in the time and effort to do it right. He knew their capabilities, security measures, and faults as readily as he knew how to count to ten. But there was no way he would be drawn into an all-out assault against the most heavily guarded and fortified places in the empire. It was far too risky, borderline suicidal even. It was not only his life hinging on the line if he decided to take that kind of risk, but his commanders as well. Not to mention the consequences he would face if he were ever caught. That kind of torment he was not willing to risk, and certainly not for a strange alien who would become just one more enemy for him to worry about later on down the line.

So, he told the soldier yes. He was sure. The greatest minds in the empire were responsible for the construction of the central command hub. It was all but impenetrable.

They left as well after that. Only stopping to tell Lance that they were going to go to the kitchen, if they wanted to join them later, to which Lance nodded dejectedly.

After that the room was quiet.

The doctor moved around him robotically, running a few more scans and using the handheld device to clean up a few points of bruising. They had wanted to put him back into the healing pod, but of course Haxus declined for obvious reasons. He was extremely sore, weak, and tired, but he had a significant amount of medical training due to his cybernetics certification. There was nothing else wrong with him that could be further healed in stasis. Physical therapy was the only thing that would help strengthen his muscles and reduce the pain and instability. As for the amnesia he needed time. Time and the proper triggers perhaps, until his brain began to recreate patterns of memory either through the reconstructed avenues, or through new ones. He was positive everything was still there. There hadn’t been any loss of brain tissue as far as he knew. Everything looked to had been reconstructed perfectly within stasis, he only needed to rebuild the proper pathways, and then everything would be fine. He hoped.

The only thing he wanted to do now was rest, and lucky for him that was what the doctor decided would be best as well. They only stayed long enough to retrieve a few more blankets and pillows for him, which told Haxus that they had certainly spent time with galra in the past, at least enough to know about sleeping habits. Then they were gone. Leaving only Lance, who let them know that they would be out soon enough.

He really wished they would leave as well, but at the end of rotation it wasn’t that big of a deal. Out of all of the soldiers Lance was the least obtrusive, even more so now that they were so dejected. As long as they didn’t get chatty, Haxus couldn't care less how long they sat there.

There weren’t nearly enough pillows for a proper nest, not one to Haxus’ standards at least, but he did his best, laying them around his upper body and head to form a decent sized wall, then throwing the blankets about to get the proper feel before crawling under and making himself comfortable.

“Put the lights at zero on your way out please.” He said to Lance, hoping they would take the hint.

It looked like they just might, until they turned back to him at the door, mouth opening and closing before finally settling on what they wanted to say.

“What…what’s gonna happen to her? In there?” they asked, quiet enough that Haxus felt like they almost didn’t want to hear the answer.

He certainly understood that.

“Nothing that she would want to happen to you or your crew as well.” Is what he settled on.

Not satisfying he knew, but merciful in a way. That was not something he felt he was used to allowing, but if anyone even slightly deserved it, it was Lance. Even if they were a liar.

It got rid of them as well, which was a major plus, and he was finally left alone. The room was dark, and silent other than the alien hum of the ships core and the surrounding machinery. The door had been secured, but he was not concerned. Now that he was in his right mind again simple locks were nothing he couldn't bypass on a whim. He was positive that he would be asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, but soon realize that wouldn't be the case.

His body was tired, but his mind wouldn't rest. Instead his thoughts flew from one topic to another at lightspeed. Going over again and again what little he knew. Trying in vain to fill in the massive voids with deduction alone and realizing with every kip that passed more and more of what was gone.

 _Enough._ He thought, pressing his face into the pillow, wincing as the pressure put tension on his new scars. He had no idea when he would have the opportunity to get comfortable, uninterrupted rest in either the near or distant future. He should take advantage while he had the chance.

Besides, it was _better_ that he didn’t remember his clan or home. Less to miss that way. _Better_ that he didn’t remember his friends. Easier to kill without hesitation to save his own life if he was ever cornered by imperial forces.

It was incredibly lonely though.

He shook his head, forcing that thought away. It had been less than a vrek since he’d woken up. He wouldn't allow himself to entertain that line of thought until it had been at least a venok. That was reasonable. He was fine.

 _Lonely_. By the void. He needed to get it together.

He thought about his commander instead.

There was a lot to work through there.

The galra was a cyborg, more so than him, and he hadn’t even decided how he was going to deal with the issue of his own missing leg. He had no idea how in the void he was going to deal with repairs on someone modified to wear a combat prosthetic the size of his commanders. The galra would have to have a significant portion of his skeleton reinforced to deal with the weigh, maybe go as far as to have it completely replaced due to the shock that would result from using it. Dampeners could only do so much to absorbed impact at that size. The eye was even worse. If he had neural implants to go along with it, as any reasonable commander would, considering it was free with their position, they were screwed, unless he could get together enough GAC to buy the technology required for interfacing and upkeep. 

He could only hope the implants had not sustained damage. Perhaps then he might have time to construct something rudimentary for maintenance purposes. But to do that he would need to see exactly what he was dealing with in person. There were too many similar systems to identify from hazy memories alone. And to do that he would need to first _find_ the galra.

For that he had no idea where to start, and no memories to point him in the right direction. He couldn't just ask, there was no way he’d be told the truth by anyone aboard this ship, if they even knew anything at all. What information was available for civilian consumption would only give him the basics. Name, clan, rank, and accomplishments. All nice to know, but at the end of rotation, useless. Well, maybe not clan, but there was no way that his commander was stupid enough to return home…..

…..Unless he was……..

Oh void take it he very well might be.

Not to his clan but to the emperor.

Haxus had no way of knowing if they shared similar loyalty. His commander may be genuinely loyal if they had only failed or retreated. It was very probable Haxus was lacking in that area due to his injury. In that case, reasonable action to him would be unthinkable to anyone else. It was standard protocol to report in after high priority missions, and if they had been involved with these rebels, rebels important enough to bring directly to central command for interrogation upon capture, then a report would definitely be expected. His commander would walk directly into his own execution. Or interrogation. Or reconditioning. Who could know.

Shit.

_Shit._

 

 _Well there’s that fucking starting location._ He thought hysterically.

By the void he was really going to have to go along with what the rebels wanted. He was going to have to infiltrate the central command hub with a bunch of children if he wanted to find his commander. To even know if he was alive! He could just as easily not be there. Leaving Haxus back at nothing for all his effort. He would rule one location in the entire universe out.

He let out a shriek of frustration, clenching his fists and burying himself deeper into his impromptu nest.

The smart thing to do would be to cut his losses. Leave the galra behind, escape the rebels and go out on his own. But the thought of doing so made his insides curl tight with disgust and wrongness that he knew in his bones that he wouldn't be able to rid himself of no matter what he did. And that left him no other choice.

He would have to go in. Take the first chance he got…..

 

The door slid open abruptly, flooding the room with light and nearly making Haxus jump.

He caught a glimpse of Red from between the blankets before shutting his eyes and evening out his breathing. Maybe if they thought he was asleep they would leave him alone.

The door slid shut, and the lock reengaged. 

“Haxus, wake up.” they said sharply, giving him a careful nudge.

Once again, he wasn’t going to get lucky.

“What?” he growled, parting the blankets just enough to glare out.

“Get up. We need to talk.”

“We’re talking right now.”

If looks could kill Haxus would have been obliterated by one Red gave him. Probably not the best idea to be instigating, he thought, reluctantly unwinding himself from his nest and sitting up.

“I’m listening.”

“I know you’re full of shit Haxus. You’re a Lieutenant. There’s no way you don’t know at least one way onto that ship.”

Haxus opened his mouth. Ready to deny that rank outright, but Red did not give him the chance.

“I’m not gonna pretend to get your reasonings, but I think there’s something you need to know about us if you’re going to make the _right_ decision. Shiro and I got out voted when we decided on keeping this quiet, but honestly, I think it’s a stupid decision, so I'm going to tell you anyway, and if anyone asks, you’re gonna say you figured it out on your own. You got it?”

For all their attempts to seem in control, sure of themselves, they were nervous. Haxus could see it easily they were so expressive. He couldn't help but be dreadfully curious as to what this big secret was. So, he agreed with only minor false hesitation, forcing himself not to lean forward in anticipation.

“You know what voltron is, right?”

“Everyone knows what voltron is. There is no way we couldn't.”

“Good, then you know how powerful it is.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well I'm one of the paladins. We’re all paladins. Me, Shiro, Pidge, Lance, and Hunk. Voltron is here, on this ship, and if you don’t believe me I can get you all the proof you need.”

Haxus frowned, irritation immediately rising up to replace curiosity.

“Oh yes I'm sure voltron is here, probably in the secret hanger you’re keeping my missing brain cells and leg I'm sure? What kind of idiot do you take me for?”

He couldn't believe he was bothered for something as stupid as this. At least Lance had the common decency to put some visible effort into their lies. Even if the alien was horrible at it, Haxus could respect a good, solid attempt. This alien bypassed that completely. Their body language was for once steady, not giving away a lie, but it was useless due to the absurdity of the story, and he was not willing to entertain such a thing. Not even as a prisoner. He was on the verge of ordering them out when a datapad was shoved into his hands, an image of a weapon frighteningly similar to those in the archives already displayed on the screen.

“This is from some of our first training exercises. Just watch it.”

He wanted to throw them out, but that weapon looked _very_ real. In only kips his curiosity won over once again and he played the video.

It was cut short, probably part of a longer clip. What he was seeing was just the end. The weapon had just landed, wobbled slightly as if unstable on its legs before unfusing into five separate, color coded pieces. Pieces that looked exactly like the beastly shapes of the ships that made up voltron in the archives. Then, to his absolute shock, from those ships came the same children who had been in the room with him earlier. Red came from…red, Green from green, and so on, all coming to cluster around the doctor, who was offering hydration packs.”

He didn’t see what happened after, Red stopped the video and took the datapad from him, but he didn’t need to see anymore. It could be a fake sure. A very, _very_ good one, but it was always possible. But Red still looked brutally honest, and they were prepared to further back themselves up.

“This is live footage from my lion’s hanger.” They said, handing him the pad again.

A bit of dread coiled in his gut at the reveal that there was, in fact, cameras aboard the ship. But he had been right. Unless there was a specific security ping they needed to be monitored manually. He would need to gain access to whatever server they stored the footage on and delete what they had on his weapon search, but he could hardly focus on any of that though, not when looking at one of the ships real time. He tried to disprove it. Shifted around the hangars various camera angles looking for a projection or hardlight model. Jumped to other, random feeds, looking for any signs that it was prerecorded, but eventually had to accept that Red was being honest with him when he landed on a feed from his own room showing he and Red inside.

Shit.

“You get it now? I'm not kidding about this. So, you don’t have to worry about the galra doing anything to you if you say something. Voltron can protect you. We’ll protect you Haxus.”

Haxus squeezed his eyes shut.

This was insane. Absolutely crazy. Emperor Zarkon, with his endless resources and time had not been able to locate voltron, but somehow these children of an uncontacted species on an ancient ship had somehow managed it. The paladins of voltron were holding him captive and wanted him to infiltrate central command for them….

...Which.... he did need to do…..

“Haxus?” Red said, but Haxus ignored him. He had an idea brewing. A very reckless one.

He needed to infiltrate central command to either rescue his commander or rule out the location. He needed GAC, which he could acquire in mass, with a bit of work and time, from the hub, and he needed a ship, also available in plenty. On his own any of these tasks bordered on impossible, but with voltron behind him, just as motivated to succeed because of their imprisoned crew member but also in the dark about his true motives…..

He wasn’t going to have a better chance than this. He would be an idiot not to take it.

“Haxus!”

“You were right.”

“…What?”

“You were right about me being ‘full of shit’. I can get you into central command. I can get you into central command a million times over actually. Just not right _now_.”

Red looked like they were simultaneously wanting to jump for joy and scream with frustration.

“Why not? We need to go as soon as possible, Allura is…”

“Stop talking.” Haxus ordered, ears flicking with amusement as he watched the paladin freeze with their mouth open. “We can not go now because central command is most certainly under lockdown. And partially because we have some negotiating to do. Now, go get your leader. If I am going to do this it is going to be a mutually beneficial operation, and it will be done _my_ way or not at all.”

Red’s mouth opened and closed once, then again, deciding whether to comply or throw a fit Haxus figured. Fortunately for him he picked the more mature route, took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yeah…yeah alright. I’ll be right back………You better be serious about this, Haxus.”

The door whooshed shut.

Haxus got to work folding up the blankets of his nest.

If everything goes the way he wants a big chunk of his needs would be resolved very soon. He would go in honest and dishonest. Give them small truths to build the alliance, a symbiosis. And if all else fails he was found out he could always kill them. Delivering the dead paladins of voltron to the emperor could possibly be enough to save him. Get him reinstated if his crimes were minor and he could prove his loyalty. Then he could proceed in finding his commander on his own.

He could do this.

He had to.

 

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally supposed to have a whole Sendak pov as a closer, but with the trailer that dropped looking like season 5's gonna bring him back I decided to cut that for now (which is why the ending pov may sound a bit rushed, i slapped it on there as a closer lol). I wanna see if there's anything I wanna use plot wise from the new season before I commit to anything with him lol. Don't worry though, he'll definitely show up next chapter. 
> 
> Don't really know when that will be though because of my course load at school so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> If y'all wanna talk about this fic or galra in general i'm on [tumblr](http://varusai.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Some worldbuilding notes:  
> I created a system of time for the galra to use (since i think it doesn't really make sense for them use the altean system). I've talked about it a bit before but the whole thing works as follows
> 
> Kip- about 5.5 earth seconds  
> Rahkip- 50 kips, about 4.5 earth minutes  
> Vrek- 50 rahkips, about 3.8 earth hours  
> Rotation- 10 vrek, about 38 earth hours (this is not an actual time unit its the typical 'active' shift time for galra soldiers, but its been adopted as a time descriptor because military service is so prominent, and its a good way to break up the long galra 'days')  
> Drahl- 50 vrek, about 8 earth days (five rotations per drahl)  
> Agari- 5 drahl, about 40 earth days  
> Dalrk- 10 agari, about 201 earth days  
> Venok- 5dalrks, about 5.5 earth years


	5. Alliance

 

 

Shiro figured he should be trying to do something more, that he should be gathering the team on the bridge again to go over their remaining options. That he should be poring over every bit of information they had with a fine-toothed comb to find something, anything that they, or even Haxus had missed that might help them get Allura back. But the only thing he could bring himself to do is remove his armor, leaving it haphazardly strewn across the floor of his quarters, and drag himself into bed. 

From a logical standpoint he could understand it. With digging through Sendak’s memories to find the secret base, the mission to the base and everything that entailed, then losing Allura, _then_ dealing with Haxus, they’d all been awake and busy for far too long, at least twenty-four hours, if not more, and stressed for most of that time on top of everything. It would be better, for both himself and everyone else, if he got some sleep, but he just couldn’t get Allura’s face out of his head, couldn’t get rid of that feeling that he’d left her behind, that he was responsible for the whole thing. But he was also unable to focus enough to do anymore, and he found himself reading the same line of text over and over, unable to pick apart and put back together the translated galra text, and the soft blue glow of the datapad, even dimmed as much as the device would allow, was giving him a headache after only a few minutes.

Unable to work, but also unable to really rest, he was stuck and frustrated, at least until Keith came bursting through the door, nearly panting and eyes wide. For a second, he was worried that something was going on with the ship, or that Haxus had finally decided to…. decapitate someone or…. some other horrible thing, but then his brain woke up enough to recognize that Keith wasn’t frantic, he was excited.

“I talked to Haxus, I told him about Voltron.”

Shiro jolted upright, flinging his comforter to the side.

“......Wait, you what?! Keith, we all decided that….”

“He’s gonna talk, he told me to come and get you. He said he can get us in.”

He set his datapad aside, the feeling of his mood lifting almost a tangible thing.

“You’re serious?”

Keith nodded.

“He sounded pretty serious. I showed him my lion and it was like a complete flip. I think he was just…. worried about the empire or something. I told him we could keep him safe, then showed him the lion and that was it.”

“I _knew_ we should have told him…”

Scowling, he jumped out of bed, hardly pausing to dress himself and still pulling on his boots as he follows Keith out into the hall towards the medical bay.

By the time they get there his irritation had calmed, but it was quickly replaced with worry when he realized Keith had picked up his mood and was just about mirroring his expression from earlier. Even without Haxus showing any signs of being a particularly explosive or emotional person outside of being injured, he had a feeling that this was going to be a delicate situation that would require both of them to keep calm, so before either of them can reach the controls to open the big entry doors he stops Keith with a hand on his shoulder.

It was probably a foolish thing to assume, possibly wrong as well, and Shiro really had no idea how he’d come to the conclusion, but he didn't think Haxus was particularly dangerous, at least physically and at the moment. Not with the missing leg and lack of memories to actively hate them. But he was certainly more aware, more cunning, and therefore more of a threat than the confused, nervous creature Lance had described. And while he was pretty much unreadable, Shiro could recognize scheming when he saw it. He knew Haxus probably had a plan, or part of one. Some way that he was going to twist things around and take some of their control over the situation away. And he knew very well that they weren’t in the position to stop him.

They were just going to have to suck it up and let it go instead of trying to fight with him. Even if it made him nervous, as well as a bit angry. They couldn’t risk Haxus clamming up on them because one of them blew up at him and pissed him off or made him too nervous around them to trust them. Not with him being their only possible insider information.

Keith didn't look happy, but he agreed, taking a deep, steadying breath before pressing his hand to the keypad and entering the medical bay. The effect it had was minimal, but it was about as much as Shiro expected. The only thing he could do now was hope that it wouldn’t matter much, that Haxus would be paying more attention to him once he was in the room and overlook Keith.

Rubbing the last of the bleariness from his eyes, he entered the security code on the door to the galra’s room and the door slid open.

They must have surprised him, because for a split second he could have sworn he’d seen something akin to exhaustion on the galra’s face as he sat slouched over, resting against his leg on the bed, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. The next thing he knew Haxus' now sharp eyes were fixed on the two of them, flitting past Keith to fall on him, and he nodded a casual greeting.

“You wanted to speak with me?” he asked, returning the nod, hoping that was actually the polite thing to do.

Haxus nodded again.

“You’re the leader of this group so I figured any legitimate negotiations would need to go through you. Agreeing to anything arranged on an underlings’ word alone is not binding, therefore not particularly reassuring.”

Shiro had to keep himself from grimacing. He could just feel Keith scowling at Haxus' wording and tone and, wanting to keep him from saying anything, he quickly moved the conversation forward.

“Whatever Keith promised you that made you feel confident or safe enough to help us I’ll fully support. All we care about is getting Allura back safe and as soon as possible right now. So, if you feel like you need protection from the empire for helping us, you’ve got it. We’ll keep you safe.” he assured Haxus right away.

To his surprise though, he’s waved off, or waved quiet. He wasn’t really sure. All he knew was that Haxus looked…almost amused.

“Yes, I'm sure you will, though, I have a feeling your idea of safety and mine are two entirely different things. So, we’re going to need to make sure they’re aligned. Make sure we are on the same frequency when it comes to how things are going to work around here if I'm going to help you with your mess.” He said, putting Shiro somewhat on edge already.

Somehow, he knew he wasn’t going to like the terms, and the rest of the team would like them even less. But with no other options he stayed quiet, waiting for Haxus to continue.

“Seeing as this is the only ship your group seems to possess…unless that’s not the case?”

Shiro nodded, confirming that the castle was their only ship.

“…. our main issue is going to be that there’s no way you can conduct this mission _and_ assure my safety from the empire at the same time. Bringing the Voltron weapon to central command would be tantamount to hand delivering it to Zarkon, so you can’t simply pilot it there instead, and with my memories of most of my personal life being all but gone I can't direct you to any place I’m positive it would be safe for me to stay while you go alone. Therefore, the way I see it, the only option that would enable both of us to keep up our ends of the agreement is for you to allow me to take charge of your ship and crew for the duration of this mission…...”

Shiro’s eyes go wide with shock before Haxus can even finish, and he sputters, trying for some kind of negative, then reasonable response, but he’s unable to get anything out. Not before Haxus continues speaking over both he and Keith in the background, who was doing the exact same thing as he was, only louder.

“….. _With_ me in charge, the only risks I’ll be taking will be what I consider acceptable, my choices to make as I will and deal with instead of having to rely completely on you. And you will be getting our missing crew member back, likely faster, safer, and more efficiently than you would be able to manage on your own considering your…. less than stellar track record with safe operations.”

“No,” Keith said firmly before he could manage to do it himself, “absolutely not. All I asked you to do was tell us how to do it, not…not take over our whole ship and use this as an excuse to get us to do whatever it is that your trying to accomplish here for yourself.”

But Haxus wasn’t even looking at Keith. His eyes were on Shiro, calmly waiting for his decision.

With a deep sigh, he shook his head as well, agreeing with Keith. He’d had a strong feeling that Haxus was going to try something the instant he started thinking about it back in his quarters, but he’d been expecting something like…sneaking around the castle, destructive behavior, or at the worst, trying to hurt anyone who let their guard down. Something quiet that he would try to do behind their backs, not…. _this_. And certainly not so fast or right in his face. The whole thing gave him a very bad feeling.

“…No, I don’t think that’s something we’re going to be able to do, sorry. The rest of the team will never agree to it, they don’t trust you to be let out of the medical bay, let alone to lead them into a fight against Zarkon. It’s just not going to work, maybe…something less drastic? I'm more than willing to work _with_ you on ideas, and you can absolutely advise the whole way through?”

Haxus only stared at him, shaking his head no.

“Those are my terms, paladin. The only ones you’re going to get. So, either you fall in line and we go get your princess, or you continue to refuse, and you can go prepare to perform a final rites ceremony, because she’ll be as good as dead.”

Shiro narrowed his eyes, the mechanisms in his right arm whining as his fist clenched shut tightly in frustration.

“What exactly is the point of all this? We hardly even _have_ a leadership structure as it is, almost every is decided by vote or just general team agreement, so when I tell you this isn't going to work, I'm serious. We’ve already agreed to work with you, so you already have just as much say as everyone else. We’ve promised to protect you from any backlash you might be facing from the empire for working with us, you’ve been healed, you have your own room, and nobody her is threatening you. You're blowing this way out of proportion Haxus.”

The only indication he got that Haxus was reacting to what he was saying was a slight laying back of his ears and a scowl.

“No, I think I'm blowing this to the correct proportion. I’m trapped on a strange ship, with a bunch of aliens that I don’t know, who want me to betray and probably kill my own people for another alien that I don’t know and honestly don’t care about at all. Which I _will_ do, this isn't a moral thing, I don’t care about that or the empire, but I’ll be in grave danger all along the way, and not just of dying in battle, but being captured, tortured, disgraced in the eyes of my clan, friends, and colleagues, and executed, or worse, tossed to Zarkon’s witch and her order to be experimented on, as is the fate of many traitors.

I also have plenty of questions about how it is I came to be here, and because of that I'm sure you can understand my reluctance to believe anything you’re saying. Even if you were allies of mine and I'm already a traitor to the empire, I have no memory of whatever deal we had previously or who else I may have been working with who would have been backing me up in case things went bad with you. I could easily be manipulated in this situation and I don’t intend to allow it. And if you’re lying to me about me knowing you previously…...well then, we would have plenty of other issues to address. But of course, I’ll never know that, because you wouldn’t be honest with me about it if I were to ask.

So, no, this isn't going to be a democracy. I'm not going to be shut up in this room or wherever your other crew intends on keeping me. I'm going to be in charge and things will be done my way or they won't be done at all. Despite what I said earlier, this isn't actually a negotiation. I'm just telling you how it’s going to be. If you don’t like it, that’s just too bad for you.”

 

 

*****

 

 

Haxus sat back against his pillows once he’d said his piece, watching the paladins face go through quite a few emotions before they managed to calm themselves down. He honestly figured they were going to shout at him, had completely expected it with how brazen his grab for power was, and was pleasantly surprised, relieved even, that it didn't happen. They both still looked less than pleased, furious in the case of the red paladin, but Black somehow managed to keep everything calm, holding Red still before turning their attention back to him.

“We’ll have to discuss all of this with the rest of the team, everyone needs to know what they’ll be getting themselves into if I agree. I hope you don’t mind waiting.”

Nonchalantly, he waves them on.

“I don’t mind at all, take as long as you need. It’s not like I have anywhere to be.”

They both leave in a huff, and he had to suppress a chuckle at the flush of angry heat on both of their faces, not much interested in dealing with the possible consequences of mocking them quite yet.

Slumping back into his horrible makeshift nest he let his eyes fall shut, gently massaging at his temples until his head is clear enough to start thinking about what exactly he’s going to do. There would be no easy way to get their lost crew member back, not with them being such a threat to the empire and in possession of the black lion. They were being baited with the missing crew member, Zarkon luring them in only to rip control of his coveted lion away from its new paladin. If that happened, they would be done for. The paladins killed, their ship destroyed, and he himself either dying along with them, dying miserably later, or, if he was very convincing and/or very lucky, he could maybe escape with a ship and Sendak like he wanted, or maybe eventually rejoin the empire on his assurance that he intentionally led them to their demise.

Not the worst thing that could happen certainly, in fact, probably two of the best outcomes he could hope for. But the more he thought about it, the less appealing the idea of living a life on the run, or regaining his rank and resuming his old life became. Not when he knew he could do so much more with as much education and knowledge of the empires inner workings as he had.

He wasn’t a young galra no matter what he looked like, there was simply too much that he could remember to justify being any younger than a few thousand venoks, if not more, and he could feel it in his bones that he’d been in the exact same position for a good deal of that time. Somehow satisfied with it despite not being the commander of a fleet or holding a territory of his own, as well as being unable to openly be in a relationship with his apparent chosen partner without a scandal due to rank.

Satisfied with secrecy, discomfort, and staggering mediocrity for nothing but the satisfaction of being loyal to a leader with a pointless, impossible to achieve cause like ruling the entire universe.

Really the fact that he’d fallen into the rigid life of a soldier was just about the most ridiculous and uncomfortable thing he could imagine. Doing it to get the best of educations made sense, but staying? That just wasn’t…………..right. Risking his life for pay that paled in comparison to what he could make with his talents in the private sector, fighting and killing for what would amount to nothing but more useless territory to manage, babysitting conquered worlds, collecting and researching alien technology that was ancient history to the likes of the galra, dealing with the horrible social environment of the upper echelons of military society and the imperial aristocracy……

Even the idea of possibly having a life mate was bizarre and unlikely….cute but did he really like the idea? _Mate_ ….gods that was weird…..weird thing for him to say, weird thing in general if he was honest. Bonded to another for life…what a joke. Who in the void would ever want to do that with him? And who could he possibly like enough to go through the trouble of all the ceremonies and clan formalities and stress…….

With a low growl of frustration, he let his hands smooth back over his ears, letting the pressure soothe his racing thoughts and chase away the thousands of nagging questions threatening to overwhelm him.

At the end of rotation, it didn't really matter. He couldn’t remember and would probably never remember his reasonings for the path he’d chosen in life. All he could do from where he sat currently was find Sendak and ask. If they really were life mates…or partners….he liked partners better…, he would most certainly be able to explain things to him.

Though, he was beginning to accept the fact though, that the chances of finding him alive were slim, the universe was just too big and the reach of the empire simply too vast, and while he hoped for the miracle that he would find Sendak within Zarkon’s central command hub, he needed to be more realistic.

The best, and probably only way for him to stand a chance at locating and protecting Sendak from the fallout of their failure would be to have complete access to and control over every corner of the empire for as long as he needed. He couldn’t do that while also running to the ends of the universe like a coward, so that idea was discarded quickly. The only thing left to do that was to remove Zarkon from power, then take that power for himself and hold onto it.

A massive and seemingly impossible task, but whether it be from overconfidence or just plain stupidity, he was terrified, but not deterred.

There were plenty of ways to kill someone without taking them head on, space was dangerous after all, the only thing separating everyone aboard any ship from a quick and merciless death in the vacuum of space was the near infallible technology surrounding them. Technology he knew almost everything about.

And if worst came to worst, and if they agreed to his terms, or at least something close, he would have a superweapon and its pilots backing him up. If someone were looking to take control of the galra empire, they’d be hard pressed to find a better opportunity than he had in front of him at the moment.

Even if the chance of failure and death were high, he’d be a fool not to take it.

Perking an ear, he listened for any signs that either of the paladins were coming back to give him the answer he wanted but heard nothing but the low rumble of the ship and the various beeps and hums and whirls of medical equipment in his room and throughout the bay. So, instead of bothering to exert the energy to keep himself alert and upright while they took their sweet time hashing things out with each other, he grabbed one of his blankets and wrapped himself back up, settling in and to his surprise, eventually dropping off into a light, then full on doze when he finally manages to shut his brain up.

The next thing he knows he has Black standing beside him, their face significantly less heated and instead more hesitant, reaching a hand out toward him only to let it hover, then pull it back, then bring it toward him again, like they were unsure how to go about waking him up, or perhaps didn't want to. Amused, he opens his third eyelid, letting his eyeshine become visible through the small slit in his outer two, relieving the paladin of having to make the decision to shake him awake.

This time around Black is alone, wisely deciding to leave their second in command behind, and with them seeming just about as level headed and controlled as a person can be, he doesn’t bother to come out of his blanket or sit himself up much, not when he’s finally managed to relax himself enough to get close to sleep, trusting that Black won't go for him even if they end up disagreeing.

“So, what’s the verdict paladin?” he asks with a small yawn, blinking some of the drowsiness from his eyes. “Good decisions, or bad ones?”

There is a moment of concern for his safety when Black’s jaw tenses up, and until they take a deep breath and relax, he regrets not sitting up and speaking to them in a position where he’d be more easily able to defend himself. It only takes a kip for his worry to fade though when he gets his answer.

Yes.

Lance, the doctor, had voted in his favor, Green was tentative and slow to give an answer, but eventually ended with a yes as well, and Yellow and Red were against. Black didn't look happy at all, distrustful and maybe even a bit afraid if he was reading the alien right, but with the majority of the others agreeing and no idea personally about what they should do about their captive crew member, they too ended up giving in.

There were conditions of course, they wanted to remain informed about what he was telling them to do and why, he would have to at least hear them out when they had something to say, take the teams comfort levels and opinions into consideration when making larger decisions, and once their mission was completed and ‘Princess Allura’ was back on the ship, he would have to relinquish his leadership position, as she was the rightful owner of the ship as well as the overall leader of the team, and his status aboard the ship would need to be renegotiated. He didn't like the idea of terms, but considering how well things were going so far he let it go and agreed as well, deciding that it wouldn’t be too much effort to listen to them every now and then, even if their advice did turn out to be mostly useless, and intending to have his own ship and assets secured before the mission was finished, he wasn’t worried about have to fight the ships princess for her position once they had retrieved her.

Black looks surprised but extremely relieved at his easy agreement, and visibly relaxes, jaw and fists unclenching and rigid posture ever so slowly disappearing until he extends his hand again. It takes Haxus a kip to figure out that the gesture wasn’t a greeting or a show of camaraderie, but something more along the lines of agreement and closure, but once he understands he takes hold of their hand, mirroring their motions and giving the synthetic fingers a firm squeeze and light shake.

“So, what now?” they ask, letting him go.

“….Waiting mostly. We can't make a move until central command comes out of lockdown, and they will be locked down, on high alert with all non-essential personnel evacuated just waiting for you to show up. That will take some time….two drahl, maybe less depending on what’s happening around the empire that might require Zarkon’s attention….But we can worry about all that later, because right now I’d personally _love_ to actually get some sleep, and by the looks of you and your second I’d say you all are probably thinking the same. So, we can start with that. Then, once we’re all not about to drop from exhaustion, we can start work on how we’re going to get your princess back, one of you can dig up my leg and the rest of my gear from wherever you have it tucked away. I’ll be needing it. You need to have your doctor, or an engineer take a look at that arm. It shouldn’t be making any noise at all, so you probably are having some joint issues that need to be corrected before you do anymore fighting with it, or else you risk wrecking the whole thing. I need to check this ship out….it’s ancient and…..Altean? Right? Can't say I remember how these work…and we can't have that. And lastly….”

Haxus paused, considering whether it was smart of him to ask what was on his mind, what happened to his crew, and more importantly what happened to Sendak, whether what he was about to do was going to amount to anything other than wide spread destruction and destabilization of the galra empire. In the end though he decided against. It the paladins were agreeable and more or less rational, but he still couldn’t say he trusted them, and certainly not enough to make them aware of the fact that he cared at all about his crew and commander. He figured he could find out on his own eventually once he was mobile anyway.

“I'm fucking starving. You people better have some actual food on this ship or I swear I'm going to be your worst nightmare the entire time we’re together.”

Black blinked at him, mouth opening then closing, clearly unsure how to respond, then just nodded slowly.

“We have plenty to eat Haxus, don’t worry about that…..was there….anything else?”

The small question hung heavy in the air, but he ignored it, shrugging lightly as if nothing was wrong, letting the paladin think they’d simply read too much into things.

“Nope…don’t think so. I would like an actual room though….and soon. I'm not going to camp down here in the medical bay forever…and feel free the expedite the retrieval of my leg and gear. The sooner I get this mess fixed the sooner you all won't have to be waiting on me hand and foot, which will become an irritant within the day I promise. I can’t remember much but I _guarantee_ you I'm difficult. I can already tell.”

It isn't much, but somehow, he manages to get a minuscule smile out of the paladin. Just the slightest upturn of their lips, but its better than nothing. He grins back, toothy like their species does, but also playful, looking to ensure they part on good terms and is more than pleased when Black’s smile becomes bigger and more genuine, and he even coaxes a quiet chuckle out of him.

“Yeah…so can everyone else. You didn’t hide that fact well.” They said in an amused tone, shaking their head slightly before turning and heading for the door. “Goodnight Haxus.”

“Rest well paladin.”

“Shiro.” They responded. “Everyone calls me Shiro. And as for the rest of the paladins, Red is Keith, Green is Pidge, Hunk is yellow, and you already know Lance. And the ‘doctor’ is Coran.”

Haxus tilts his ears forward with acknowledgement, and gives the paladin, Shiro, the positive thumb up gesture he remembered Lance doing.”

“Rest well, Shiro.”

The door hisses shut with one last nod from Shiro, leaving the room comfortably dark as Haxus slowly reconstructs his nest, careful to not get going too quick and shake the lingering bits of drowsiness from his body. After everything is in order and he somehow manages to kick off his boot without the aid of another foot, he sinks into the old, weird smelling pillows with a tired sigh. Kneading softly at his still painful right arm and purring quietly to himself, he manages to get back to his doze within a few rahkips, and not long after he finally drops off into actual sleep, calming and satisfying himself with a personal promise that he’ll get himself an answer to the burning question of Sendak's fate just as soon as he wakes up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick short chapter after a long ass hiatus :) sorry about that lol  
> I've got another longer one that i'll put up in a bit, tho just hang tight


	6. The Zero Solution

Sendak didn’t remember much after being trapped behind the energy crystals particle barrier. He was awake for a time, furious in the face of his failure and trying to escape. He had tried clawing his way beneath the barrier to no avail, then attempted to disconnect the power cables from the crystal. That task however, required two hands, one couldn’t properly handle the necessary motion easily, and with his only remaining hand bloodied and slippery from a nasty combination of the bone deep gash on his palm, his bloodied knuckles, and broken claws he didn’t stand a chance of getting it right.

He could have torn it free, and did try, but the altean princess was quick to react and merciless. She sent a surge of energy down the cylinder the instant she realized what he was attempting to do, effectively disabling him.

It shouldn’t have worked. He should have been able to withstand the shock. If he’d been uninjured, at even a quarter of his best, he could have shaken it off without issue. He could have killed them all before he was trapped like this, but the escape pod crash had taken its toll on him. Haxus…..had required three and a half of the four doses of the healing serum in their combined med-kits to fix the injuries he sustained, leaving Sendak little to work with himself. His cybernetic augmentations were the best one could get. His skeleton had absorbed most of the massive impact and corrected the dislocations and warping it sustained. The nanites flooding his bloodstream would heal all the tissue damage eventually, but they just couldn't match the speed of the specially engineered quintessence. He didn’t have time to completely heal, or really heal at all before receiving instructions from Emperor Zarkon to capture the castle even at a disadvantage, and now it had finally caught up with him.

He dropped to the ground after not even a kip, the room blackening around him before he could register any pain.

Wherever he was now was cold. Comfortably so, to the point that for a moment he thought he was back on his cruiser, safe in his quarters and curled up in his own nest. Arus had been so horrifically hot………

His reflection on the barrier of the altean stasis pod broke the illusion.

Whether from some kind of sedation or simply from injury, he was too stiff and weak to break out. He was only able to reach up and power down the shoulder module of his arm before it could overload and injure him further. Within rahkips one of the alteans was there, doing something to the pod in a frenzy, making it colder.

Cryostasis then.

Sendak would have laughed if he were able.

He was built for cold, could live more than comfortably in temperatures colder than his pod was currently, but whatever secondary sedation the pod had was effective, putting him out before he thought to fight.

He could acclimate though, and ended up waking five more times. All of which were in quick succession.

His eye’s interface gave him the time after each bout of unconsciousness. Five rahkips, seven rahkips, fourteen, then, sixteen. Each time after the first he tried to escape, forcing himself to push aside the stiffness and drowsiness and throwing his entire weight against the barrier until the altean came sprinting around the corner to put him back under. The sixth time they were forced to come racing back they were clearly fed up and spend a good deal of time dialing down the temperature and upping the sedation until Sendak felt as if he had been blown from an airlock, out into the black.

He fought it, didn’t sleep immediately, knowing that if he did he might not wake up until Voltron allowed it. Distantly, he could feel his fingers and toes, he could still breath and think, it gave him hope that he might be able to pull himself out of it, but soon he could feel himself slowly becoming less aware. The temperature drop and sedation levels were too drastic. He hadn’t eaten much since the crash, and with his nanites working their hardest to heal his injuries he was sapped of energy. His body couldn't acclimate to such a massive environmental shift. Not quickly at least. Even simple consciousness was becoming a struggle…..

No matter the scenario there was simply no way he’d be able to bring himself out of stasis in a timely manner and with Emperor Zarkon’s patience with him as thin as it was at the moment it was very possible that he would have long since written him off as a casualty and failure by then, moved on to other means of capturing Voltron. It was a thought that made his blood run colder than any cryopod could.

But any panic was quick to be wiped away, lost in the haze of sedation until eventually even the shame and fear of punishment for his failure was not enough to keep him clinging to consciousness. Not that it mattered. Even if he had been successful, he couldn't get out of the pod in the state he was in. It was detainment grade and shut tight. And even if he somehow did manage it, he still couldn't take the ship. He didn’t know enough about the ancient technology to fly it, and Haxus was……

Sendak’s shallow breath hitched only once before he banished the thought, letting his body go lax in the pod and happily allowing himself to fall under at last.

 

 

*****

 

 

The seventh time he woke, before even taking so much of a glance at his interface readings, Sendak knew he’d been out for much longer than the times before. His limbs were no longer stiff, but completely numb, his mouth was as dry as powder, and his injuries were doing _much_ better, at least to the point where it no longer pained him immensely just to breathe.

It had been just shy of a drahl, his interface supplied. Not as long as he first suspected, but still significant. He must really have been in horrid shape for it to have taken him so long, but that was no longer the case.

Before his body could wake up any further, he activated his cybernetics bio-cloaking. He had no idea how these pods worked but any stasis unit would need to be monitoring temperature, heartrate, and neural activity at the very least. That had to be what was alerting the altean to him waking up before. The bio-cloaking’s false signals worked on even the most advanced galra medical instruments and lifeform scans, so they would certainly fool anything on this ship, giving him the time he needed to get out.

The pod barrier, which had seemed so daunting before, Sendak was positive he could get through now. he could get out, escape into the ship. To do what, he didn’t know, but….

His eye’s proximity alarm went off.

The altean was back. 

There had been no alert, he’d turned on bio-cloaking in time and there was no way it didn’t work. Why were they here? And how in the void was it so fast?

He closed his organic eye and switched his artificial one back to low power mode just as the door hissed open.

The footsteps approached the pod, but they were not hurried. In fact, they were slower than the normal gait for a creature that altean’s size. Almost…..hesitant. It didn’t make any sense.

There was a noise from within the pod, something on the top shifting or opening, he couldn't tell, but he also couldn't move. If he hadn’t been found out there was still a chance that the altean would leave. Perhaps this was just basic rounds, checking pod functionality.

After an entire rahkip without any sign of leaving though, Sendak started to think otherwise. Something else was going on.

He wouldn't risk opening his organic eye and being seen, but he could maybe get away with a peek via his cybernetic one.

Slowly, carefully he brought the optics back online, adjusting external color and brightness to match that of low power mode as closely as possible as he went.

The altean was right in front of him, and for a split kip Sendak was sure he’d been caught, but they weren’t looking at him. Instead they were focused on the pods interface. Establishing a connection to an external, secondary structure off to the left of the pod that Sendak was unable to identify.

The structures interface lit up upon connection and it took everything Sendak had in him not to tense up.

Fortunately, nothing happened.

Unfortunately, the altean decided to summon the rest of the paladins via the ships overcomm, ruining any hope Sendak had of escaping undetected.

Champion arrived first, followed by the red paladin, then Yellow, Blue, and lastly Green, who Sendak immediately zeroed in on. They came right up to the barrier of the pod, no more than an arm’s length away. It would be easy, punch through the barrier, get a hand around their neck, squeeze. Three simple motions….

Sendak grit his teeth and turned his attention back to what the altean was saying, forcing the hot swell of rage that had boiled up at the sight of the paladin to cool into something less impulsive. He didn’t have the luxury of time and space to grieve, nor the right. Not when there was a chance that he might yet have an opportunity to escape unnoticed, to kill more of them, maybe even all of them.

That was what the emperor expected of him, what he expected of himself, and the vengeance Haxus would have wanted, not a single messy kill that would lead to his own swift death. It was his fault that they had failed, that he was now trapped, and Haxus was gone. His orders had separated them when every bit of common sense had been screaming for them to stay together. This was the least he could do. A small fraction of what Haxus deserved after everything that had happened.

“Okay guys, Sendak’s almost all hooked up, but look, I have to warn you, this technology was used to keep altean memories alive, not to interrogate prisoners.”

“Coran, we understand this isn't what the technology was meant for, but if we can extract Sendak’s memories we may gain valuable intelligence on Zarkon’s troop locations.” The Champion responded.

Blue, then Green spoke, but it was insignificant.

“As the memories are extracted, they're written bit by bit on individual molecules of the micro storage strands.”

_Shit._

Green and the altean both said something afterward, but Sendak didn’t hear it. He could get around mind readers. It was easy. He and Haxus and plenty of others in command positions, or those who had taken part in various missions had been doing it forever. He was well versed in techniques that held up against even the brutal scrutiny of Zarkon’s witch, who he’d had to face many times in the past few venoks. But this was a machine, not a person. He knew no techniques for keeping a machine out of his head and knew of no settings or functions of his eye that would allow him to guard or…or encrypt his thoughts. A machine couldn't be confused, or distracted, or lead in circles, at least not a good one, and while this technology was ancient, it appeared to be more than functional. If he couldn’t figure something out, he wouldn't be able to hide anything. He’d betray the empire and his own conscious status against his will.

_No._

_He wouldn't._

 

There was nothing in the universe that could compare with the likes of the witch. The worst it ever got outside of them was with pirates, and Voltron had neither the technology or the ruthlessness to use such tactics. Whatever this was, it was meant to be voluntary. That is what he thought the altean had said while he was distracted, and they now looked very skeptical. There was a possibility that it wouldn’t work with him sedated. Awake and conscious he should be able to hold out if he just maintained his focus. They may be watching him now, but they couldn't wait around forever.

Once they were gone, he could escape, stay in range so the bio-cloaking could cover him until he could…maybe reset the pod…somehow. Make the altean think it was still working fine. Give him more time to figure out a way to kill the paladins and take the ship.

The altean closed the interface on the secondary structure and stepped back. Sendak forced himself to stay relaxed as the device hummed to life.

It…. wasn’t what he expected, not at first. At first it was gentle, nothing more than a slight tug at his consciousness that probably wouldn't have woken him from even a light sleep. Easy to resist as long as he kept it in mind, but it didn’t last. As time when on the slight tug became harsher and harsher until he developed a headache, then ever harsher still as it hit the one rahkip mark. Soon, he felt like his ears were ringing even though he knew there was no sound to cause it. The feeling slid, back and forth, up and down some unknown register, searching for a way, trying to get to him, but despite the pain he didn’t allow it. He could keep it out. It took a massive effort, and he had no idea how long he could keep it up, but he was doing it. He did wish he could tense though, grind his teeth, clench his fist, anything to distract himself from the feeling of… _something_ trying to break its way through his skull and into his mind….trying to rip everything out…..

It was a good thing the paladins hadn’t thought to remove his armor because if they had they would have easily picked up the way he was breathing heavier and faster, and the slight tremble that ran the length of his body each time the device hit the end of one of its cycles….

_Nothing could compare to the witch._

**_Nothing_ ** _could compare to the witch._

It was beyond painful. The headache was splitting now, but it was _nothing he couldn’t handle._ He’d been through worse and he _would_ get through this.

“Uh…Is this what’s supposed to be happening?” the yellow paladin asked, staring at the device in confusion.

“Let’s give it some time.”

Sendak had to keep his ears from giving a pleased flick. If there was anything on his side at this point, it was time. He would keep the machine out of his head as long as he needed. He knew he could. Now, he had all the time in the verse.

Arus, much like the rest of the planets along his sectors boarders, was a world at the fringes of the empire. No colonies or comm stations anywhere nearby. It had been a miracle that Haxus managed to boost their escape shuttles comm signal enough to reach one of his sub commander’s cruisers who then got them in contact with central command. Wherever Voltron was currently located however, was a different story. They were somewhere well established, so he was easily able to locate an uplink and connect to the imperial intergalactic network via his eye. 

He didn’t bother calling for aid. If he ever hoped to return to the empire he would need to do so at the helm of this ship, with all of the components of voltron accounted for. There was no other way he could see himself getting back into the emperor’s good graces after losing his lion. And besides, he would not be denied the opportunity for vengeance. That was something he needed just as much, if not more than then Zarkon’s mercy. So, he just…drifted.

He'd never been one for the hypernet, at least not recently. There was simply too much to sift through. He didn’t know where to start, nor did he have the time. It was a lower rank and civilian frivolity, something he only indulged in when someone else recommended or personally showed him something specific. He had time now though, so he tried. He looked at articles on ships, the newest prosthetics, newly discovered space weather in various sectors, and even a few of the meaningless videos and ridiculous images that Haxus like to post on his social media accounts. He didn’t understand any of the jokes, but somehow it was soothing……

He sighed discretely, closing out the window.

He needed to stay focused.

It had been ten rahkips already and none of his captors were showing any signs that they were going to leave.

He could continue to wait, really that was his only option physically, but maybe it wasn’t _all_ he could do.

Idly, he played with the scan feature of his eye as he thought. He did have a bit of an idea………

Instead of meaningless entertainment his next search was on altean technology.

There wasn’t much to be found. The emperor had ensured that everything having to do with Altea’s people and their culture had been destroyed along with their planet. The only major records left were in the possession of the witch, assessible only to druids, the highest-ranking overseers upon request, or to commanders on a need-to-know basis. He’d had everything he’d needed before, but not anymore. Haxus had everything with him, he was the one who could comprehend it so at the time Sendak had thought nothing of passing everything off to him. He had never considered that something like this would happen, and now all that he had was information on a few novelty items. Comms, computers, music players, lock boxes, and other ancient collectables that would have been little use to him if not for their sellers giving specific instructions on how to operate them, namely, get past the security protocols put in place by their previous owners.

He had no idea if or how any of it would translate to something as complicated as a ship, but it was a start, more than he’d had before. He downloaded every instructional file he could find.

If he could connect to the hypernet, then there should be nothing stopping him from interfacing with the ship. Haxus had gone over the numerous functions of his current set of cybernetic implants when he’d first gotten them, shown him how to interface with the cruiser if he so desired, though he never did after the first attempt and the near debilitating headache that followed. He had paid attention though, he knew what protocol to run to find…. he didn’t remember what exactly it would find…. or how or what it would connect him to, but he ran it anyway.

Haxus had just about destroyed the ships security measures when they’d first taken over. If he was lucky, they wouldn’t have had time to fix all the damage and all he would need to do is run two of the programs that had been in the instructional files. One would give him the correct password to access the ships closed network, then the other would build him an access authority file so he would be able to get by any additional security on important systems, just like he was a member of the crew.

Easy in theory, but so far nothing had showed up on his scan, and soon he was beginning to lose hope that there was even something to connect _to_ , but after another rahkip a new window popped up beside the scan, so violently blue Sendak knew it couldn’t be anything else.

It was all in altean, so he ran it through a translator, but even before it finished, he knew something was off in the best of ways. There were only two options instead of a place to input a security code. He had a good idea what they were, confirmed in a kip by the translator.

_[Join Network?] [Yes/No]_

By the void he was really going to get this lucky. If he could he would have praised Haxus to the stars and beyond for making the whole thing possible.

He selected yes and ran the secondary program.

A wall of text that he didn’t understand popped up, spanning the width of his interface until he could reduce it. It was flashing by quickly, and on the side, in another window, something else was slowly being written. The access authority file he figured, because soon it was finished, and the next moment he was looking at….a lot of altean text. Whatever it was, it was not dissimilar to the interface on the bridge when they’d first plugged in the crystal, only much less user friendly.

There were no helpful pictures, diagrams, or directive animations, only text, and a lot of it flashing red instead of the usual altean blue. Maybe there was something wrong?

Again, he ran everything through the translator. This time though it was less than helpful. The wall of text was still a wall of text, a thick mixture of both words, numbers, and other untranslatable symbols, nearly impossible for him to sort through to find anything useful, especially while trying to fight the memory interrogation device and contend with a new component of his headache blooming around his cybernetic.

Sendak dimmed the display further, as dark as it could go, and then some more with auxiliary settings. Then he scanned the text for keywords.

_< Bridge>_

_< Power Core>_

_< Atmosphere>_

_< Gravity>_

_< Weapons>_

_< Particle barrier>_

_Teleport…no, tele….tele……………._

_< Wormhole>_

He would need to damage something significant to pull their attention, then keep doing damage if he intended to kill them that way. But for some reason some things produced no results for reasons he couldn’t figure out, and everything that did come up was….very complex. More walls of text that made no sense and seemed even more scrambled than the system list he was on to begin with. He would probably need to start smaller, simpler. Something less urgent so that he could gain a bit of understanding of how everything worked before doing anything drastic.

He did another keyword scan.

_< Lights> _

_< Lighting>_

_< Environment>_

That brought up numerous systems. Lighting, gravity, temperature, humidity, and atmosphere being the most clearly translatable.

He was tempted to go with atmosphere, but he resisted, selecting lights as he first intended.

With a bit of trial and error he found what looked like a model of the power grid. He ran it through the translator and found the detainment level, though he was having trouble pinpointing his exact location within the deck. Everything looked the same in the minimalistic lines of the schematic, and he hadn’t been conscious when he was brought down to know where to turn and how far to go relative to the lifts or stairs…..

Lifeform scans.

His eye could scan for lifeforms, give him biorhythms and general makeup, so he was sure it could be done on this ship.

He scanned for the term and came up with nothing. He searched through the environment section and got the same results. How about…

_< Locator>_

_< Crew>_

_< Security>_

There it was. Security, then lifeform scan.

It was a simple yes or no again after he selected the range, the whole ship.

_< Yes> _

A small circular icon appeared on the screen. Sendak couldn’t read what was written beneath it but just from the way it looked he figured it was a progress bar, and it was absolutely _crawling_. He did try to wait, thinking maybe once it got some momentum going it would speed but, but that wasn’t the case. Its rate was steady, only one tick every kip and a half. Far too slow to be useful to him. He needed something faster……

Cameras.

He’d seen ‘surveillance’ when coming through the security section, they had to be in there.

They were. Security, then surveillance, then he could look at live feeds from around the ship.

Sendak first located the detainment level again, then flipped through the various feeds until he found himself and the paladins. He was ready, but before he could try anything, a sharp movement from beyond his interface broke his focus, drawing his attention back to the paladins.

It was the red paladin, throwing their arms above their head in a lazy stretch.

“Wellllll, I can't wait around anymore. I’m gonna hit the training deck.”

Oh, _now_ they decide to leave. Sendak thought, frustrated.

The red paladin leaving though, began a cascade. Not a rahkip later green left, off to their lab to mess with the crystal Sendak had used to power the castle. Yellow was next. Food, off to the mess hall probably, and the altean at the same time, from whom Sendak learned how much had been going on while he was under, and that he’d been right about something being wrong with the ship.

Energy surge from the crystal. Haxus had warned him that it might happen and that they would need to watch for damage to the old system until they could get a more compatible, lower yield crystal. Theirs was meant to power an entire battle cruiser. It was far too much energy for a ship this size and age to deal with without damage. Haxus had been right, and now the paladins were dealing with the consequences.

All the better for him though.

His only issue now though was that the Champion had not left. They were the only one remaining, but the one Sendak was the least willing to deal with directly. He wasn’t horribly injured anymore, but he was still nowhere near his best. His bio-scans were still reading injuries, especially around his right shoulder, collarbone, and right leg. The shoulder, hip, and knee had dislocated horribly as he was thrashed around in the crashing pod. His collarbone and upper leg warped until they had nearly protruded through his skin. He was lucky the cybernetic skeleton had not been completely destroyed, and that everything had snapped back into place with nothing more than pain as a consequence. But the soft tissue, artificial and organic were still damaged. He still needed to be careful, so as much as he felt like he could defeat the Champion now that he was healthier, Sendak decided to stay put.

They would leave.

Especially if there was trouble elsewhere.

He went back to the surveillance window, but after a bit of searching for the paladins, gave up and went to locate a map, which was fortunately easy to find.

The mess hall was just below the bridge/hangar level, five up from detainment. Where the common areas seemed to also be located. The training deck was just above him and multi leveled. An upper control room and then the actual deck, which was shared with the medical bay. Reasonable design, expecting injury probably, same as a battle cruiser.

He opened feeds and general power grids to each location.

Somehow, the yellow paladin made it to the kitchen before any of the others reached where they had said they were going, so that was where he would test his control.

Sendak selected the point representing the replicator, or whatever it was on this ship that made their food when he saw the paladin go for it. There had to have been overloads here, everything on the grid was blinking red, and the machine sparked ever so slightly as the paladin attempted to make it function over and over.

There were no obvious buttons for on or off, no buttons at all really. Just numbers on the schematic. Numbers _everywhere_. Looking closer though he noticed a familiar trend. There were only two numbers. Just repeating clumps of two numbers back and forth depending on where he selected. He knew what that was. Haxus had…he’d asked once a long time ago and Haxus had gone over things like this with him.

He knew what this was.

No or yes, off or on, zero or _… <1>._

The machine exploded, shooting a disgusting wad of green goo into the paladin’s face and sending them reeling. Clenching his jaw to keep from snickering, Sendak entered the order over and over. On, off, on, off, on off, as quickly as he could manage, hoping to blow the machine completely. It fired rapidly, coating the entire room in the sludge and eventually jamming in the on position before the green paladin entered the mess hall as well and began devising a plan with Yellow to stop it.

It was gross and beyond amusing, but not dangerous, so he turned his attention from the room, happy with how easy it was to affect the ships systems even with his limited skills. He could catch up with them once they had moved onto somewhere else.

Off in the corner of his interface he could see the blue paladin and the altean. In the medical bay, doing something to the pods. _Cleaning_ , it looked like, but he couldn’t be sure. He’d never seen anyone clean pods by hand so really it could be anything. But whatever it was, it was making them easy targets. Or at least, it was making the blue paladin an easy target. The altean kept at least a foot out the entire time, but blue was stepping completely into the pod like a fool.

Sendak knew how to operate healing pods. It was part of basic medical training every soldier received, and these pods were a lot less complicated than galra stasis pods, especially since they weren’t detainment grade. So, once he located the correct interface and translated it, it was easy to shut the paladin inside and activate the cryostasis process while the altean’s back was turned, chattering away about void knows what. It was unfortunate that he couldn’t figure out how to drop the temperature and up the sedative like the altean had done to him. Then he might have been able to kill them right there, but it was taking too much time, and there was a much better opportunity with the red paladin.

They were still on the training deck, attempting to brute force their way through the simulation level for the second time, swinging their bayard around wildly and not picking up at all the simple sidestep and parry the level was trying to reinforce. A level that should have been completed in less than a rahkip was dragging on and on, giving Sendak the time he needed to poke at the system.

It was much more complex than either the pods or the goo machine. Each of these levels had their own specific program, and reactive programs at that. He was more than well versed in sim programing, he did it with Haxus often, but here there was no supervision. He had one chance, so he was forced back onto the hypernet, to an article, then another, then another on the inner workings of combat simulations. They were galra sims, but the idea was the same, especially at these lower levels where move sets were extremely restricted, making the programs simpler. He first needed access to the control room interface, which was readily available, then he would need to override the paladin’s sim control, also easy since his access authority file long since been implanted into the system. The next part was more difficult though. If he wanted to override the sim completely, he would need to access the drone itself. There should be an option for instructor override, in place to test the reaction to unexpected attacks in lower level trainees, it was said to be simple enough, made so that any instructor could be easily taught to use it, but Sendak had never done a stint training new recruits, which was where this would be used. He had only ever assisted Haxus when he’d held the rank of training major so many thousands of venoks ago, which was nothing but reports, moving shit, cleaning shit up, and taking too many rotations off. And as a commander he only worked with fully fledged soldiers, and it was hands on, face to face instruction and combat.

Better late than never though, he figured.

He followed the instructional articles word for word but had to stop multiple times to find the right locations to input the override codes. The altean system was similar, but not at all organized like a galra one. It was frustrating beyond belief, pushing his headache to new heights and nearly making him clench his fist in front of the Champion. Eventually he had to shut down the interface, calm himself for a few kips before making another attempt, lest he do something stupid that he couldn’t afford.

He finished right before the paladin beat the level, almost clunking his head back against the pods wall with relief.

“Start training level three.” The paladin said, dragging the back of their arm across their face to remove the sweat from their brow.

Training level three was dull, not enough complex move sets to give the paladin trouble if they were pushed into a life or death scenario. So, he boosted it up. The safety restraints wouldn’t let him change the skill level, or even push the beginner set to level one hundred. Ten was as high as he was allowed to go, but ten, he decided, was dull as well. Doable with brute force tactics since it was an endurance level about diligence and strength. Eight however was perfect. Entry to tactical retreat and vertical evasion, two strategies that this paladin wouldn’t pick up in a million venoks.

He gave the go ahead and the training drone dropped down. Just as Sendak expected the paladin was immediately overwhelmed, being forced back from the get-go no matter how much they tried to move forward and eventually being knocked to the ground in one heavy sweep of the drone’s sword. They sprung to their feet immediately, flustered and panting, making the smart decision to abort the sim.

Sendak didn’t allow it.

He canceled the order, allowing the drone to remain on the training floor. Then he took control, the horrible blue interface changing over to his favored red and his view of the paladin switching from the ceiling cameras to the drone.

The control was not quite direct. He could feel nothing, only control the move sets and direction, but it was more than enough. He disarmed the paladin in a single downward stroke, flinging their bayard to the side and knocking them into an unbalanced stance. He followed it up with the next move set, a spinning kick to the abdomen, hoping to rupture the soft creature’s organs, but to his surprise the paladin got to their feet again. They looked pained but otherwise undamaged. They were more durable than Sendak gave them credit for, but he would not make the mistake of underestimating the paladins a second time.

He charged again as the paladin went for their weapon, feigning high before slicing low, but the small paladin went to their knees, sliding on the slick floor underneath the strike and snatching their bayard up. Sendak expected them to retaliate and spun the drone around, bringing up his sword, ready to block an attack, but the paladin was nowhere near him.

They were retreating instead, heading for the exit in a dead sprint.

Sendak was impressed. They had learned something after all, but Sendak wasn’t about to let them go. He gave chase, the longer legs of the drone closing the distance quickly, though not quickly enough to overtake them and stop them from closing the doors.

Sendak didn’t waste his momentum, and instead of stopping, pushed his sword out in front of him in line with the seam where the two sliding doors met. It pushed right through, and twisting it gave him room to get a hand in to pry it open further, as well as see the paladins terrified expression briefly before they turned and ran.

He pushed his way through, ready to follow, but was stopped by a prompt.

_[Continue Simulation?] [Yes/No]_

_< Yes>_

_[Untether From Training Deck?] [Yes/No]_

_< Yes>_

It was over in a spit kip. The paladin hadn’t even made it to the first corner. Sendak could catch up.

He charged, overtaking the paladin as they slowed to turn the corner and driving them into the wall with the drone’s superior weight. They thrashed violently in Sendak’s grip, almost tearing their own clothing away to escape before they managed to roll away as Sendak lined up to strike. Their bayard was active, but they were running again, and again Sendak chased, taking a swipe at their exposed neck but being blocked at the last kip when the paladin rounded on him to perform a sloppy parry. Sendak went with the motion, slipping behind the paladin and hit them with a swift kick, launching them back toward the intersection where there was more room to maneuver.

He had a set of circular maneuvers lined up, but as he lunged a snarl and loud knock to his pod’s barrier ripped his focus from the sim and back to the Champion, who was much closer than before, right up against the barrier and staring up at him with furious eyes.

Sendak was so lucky that he did not flinch, did not even twitch, because he would have been caught, but his concentration broke. All his attention was suddenly on the Champion, every part of him on alert at the realization that someone so dangerous was suddenly _so close_.

He calmed himself immediately, but the damage was done. He had not guarded himself against the memory extractor and it broke painfully into his mind and pulled something away from him.

The secondary structure lit up with a long purple strand. It was small but as far as Sendak knew it could be everything he knew about his current sector. He’d done his best to do some kind of damage control as he felt….something, a tug, a slip, some bizarre and horrifically invasive sensation that he just knew was the remnant of the memory being removed. He ran the wall of numbers that he didn’t understand over the entire span of his interface, letting it blind him and completely occupy his thoughts. It would have worked with a mind reader and was the only thing he could think to do. That maybe it would….mess up the encoding somehow? Take up enough room in his mind all the sudden that the machine would get confused? He didn’t know, but he hoped to the gods that he was right.

“So, you can hear me.” the Champion said, face lighting up.

Shit.

Damn them to the darkest void.

The absolute _darkest_ most _wretched_ place imaginable.

Sendak could feel his hand begin to shake with rage, his teeth want to chatter with nerves.

_Shit._

He needed help. Needed something to….

He didn’t know.

But he was spread too thin.

His head was killing him. He hadn’t used his eye’s more advanced functions to this extent since…. _ever_.

Haxus had said his brain would adjust. Something about _elasticity_. He would get used to the strain of it, but he never practiced. He never liked the feeling and kept most operations to a minimum. Seeing, motion tracking, bio-scans, and aiming, communications occasionally but that was _all_. Now it was exhausting him, and he didn’t know what to do. The drone was operating on its own, running the sim against the red paladin, and blue was trapped, but the altean would surely find them eventually. Then he would have almost all of them loose again, and now that he slipped up the Champion would not be leaving anytime soon. Haxus wasn’t here to help him anymore…….

He used the first opportunity he had, the Champion looking away from him and at the strands of his memories, to dig his claws into his palm. 

It tore open the still healing injury from the red paladin’s sword, but it was worth it. The pain grounded him, brought him back from the edge.

He was _calm_.

He was **_fine_**.

And he needed to find a way to damage the castle without using every bit of his focus and energy. Something faster and more damaging.

_Think_.

There had to be a system he could target that would start a downward spiral. His mind kept going back to atmosphere. That was the big one. No atmosphere no life. But everything environmental was complicated. More than likely outside his scope of capabilities, and it was possible that they could just turn them back on if he only shut the air processors off. He needed something more overarching like…..like…….

Like the ships AI.

That’s the only thing he could think of.

Shut the AI down on a galra cruiser and all kinds of systems go down, leaving the ship difficult, if not impossible to operate without a properly sized and skilled crew. Drones, navigation, communication to a certain extent, hyperdrive capabilities for sure, and atmospheric stabilization, just to name a few systems. He had no idea what the AI on this ship ran, he didn’t even know every system they ran on a cruiser, that wasn’t his job, but no matter what it would be something significant to damage. It would definitely get everyone’s attention.

The only problem was that attacks on the AI’s were almost impossible. They had their own defense mechanisms, the Order of Builders put a good deal of thought into those systems, Haxus complained to him constantly the last time he oversaw a new cruiser model build. And that had to have been a thousand venoks ago easily. The new ships would be even worse…

But this was a very old ship…..

It’s AI might be garbage, with useless security, especially considering how easy it was to connect to the ships network itself. The AI had not stopped him…maybe it was severely malfunctioning already…….

All he would need to do is break it a little bit more.

He would be the least of their worries then. Champion would leave to help their fellow paladins, and any who were capable would be rushing to repair the damage. He could escape in the confusion, destroy the strand of memory that had been taken from him, find his arm or acquire some other weapon, and kill them while they were distracted. He would need to leave one with the proper skills alive long enough to repair the damage he had done so that he could pilot the ship, but after that they would die as well. He just needed a way to do the damage.

And he had another idea.

Sendak moved all his camera feeds to the side, only marginally keeping an eye on the drone and the red paladin, feeding it move sets occasionally to make sure the paladin couldn’t make it to the others, and was driven deeper into the ship. He closed everything having to do with the power grid as well, replacing everything with a single hypernet window.

He knew very well that Haxus was fond of…..activities that were not exactly…legal. He collected and created all sorts of things for unsavory ends that would certainly lead to the most severe discipline if he was ever caught, so he never kept any of his files on cruiser hard drives, or any imperial hard drives for that matter, even innocent things. It was always secure and secret hypernet storage, on his own private servers at his family home, on his person, and he had long ago given Sendak access to those accounts.

He had seen Haxus torment other commanders for venoks for all sorts of slights against both of them, damaging their ships, their cybernetics, important bases in their sectors, and sometimes, on rare occasions when Zarkon was particularly cruel to him during training or too demanding or rude, central command itself would have _incidents_. Systems slowing to a crawl, malfunctioning, or even completely crashing inexplicably right after they had headed back out into the black. The details of which Haxus would always regale him with later with a wicked, gleeful smile while tending to his injuries.

If central command could not protect itself from him, then this ship’s AI could not either, and everything he needed Haxus would already have.

Oh, how fitting it was, Sendak thought as he entered Haxus’ beyond complex passcodes and ran the correct decryption, that Haxus would be his…murde….his………..the paladins downfall. It is _exactly_ what he would have wanted.

The Champions back was turned, attention on the strand of memories, asking it questions as if it could speak like an idiot, so Sendak didn’t bother restraining his smile or the happy fluffing of his fur at the realization that he could do this just as Haxus would have. For him.

He had never gone through Haxus’ things, he would have never breached his trust in such a way, even with them not being on….the _best_ of terms as of late, but he knew where things were, how Haxus organized, and while he couldn’t speak Haxus’ native language beyond a few hundred words and useful phrases, he could read it…somewhat okay, at least the shorthand version Haxus always used for notes. He could find things. He had been shown and warned previously about what was okay to touch or look at and what was dangerous, and he wasn’t allowed to mess with. He went right to the dangerous files. There were bright warnings and clear labels for what each was, which he was thankful for, because there had to be tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of collections, Sendak could hardly believe it.

He took a deep breath and went right to the blue section. Those would be the worst.

 

_[Horrible, Horrible Viruses: Misc]_

Maybe.

_[Destructive: Cruiser Models 129-453]_

_[Devastators: Cruiser Models 129-453]_

No.

_[Destructive: Cruiser Models 454-790]_

_[Devastators: Cruiser Models 454-790]_

No.

_[Devastators: Misc: General Base…. Ground]_

No.

_[Destructive: Central Command Designated]_

Frightening, and maybe.

_[Destructive: Landok, Branko, Morvok]_

No.

_[Devastators: Ranveig_ (◣_◢) _]_

Pleasing, but no.

_[For Field Use Only]_

_[Throk Collab]_

_[Champion’s Arm Fuck Off]_

_[Order of Builders Full Disruption]_

_[Druid Order Disruption]_

_[Emergency Shore Leave Stuff]_

_[Ranveig Incidents 1-250]_

_[Ranveig Incidents 251-468]_

_[Communication Misc]_

_[Zarkon Designated]_

_[Haggar Designated]_

_[Research Disruption]_

_[asdfhaksjskf]_

_[Red Designated: Important]_

_[For Mom’s Kill Arm]_

_[Hypothetical Long Distance???]_

_[Delete This!!!]_

_[Ranveig adksajfslakfsas???]_

_[Janka Commissions 4-7, 14-18, And 23]_

_[Thace Commissions 2-5]_

_[Thace Commission 9: Devastator?_ ಠ_ಠ _Investigate?????]_

_[Sau’Rei Commissions]_

_[External Commissions Misc]_

_[Havok Gifts_ _(o^_ _∀_ _^o)]_

_[Havok Work Things]_

_….._ and more and more and more and more and more… _…._

_[Don’t Open This: Extreme Caution…………..]_

There were plenty of others to look at, but for some reason Sendak was drawn to that collection. The name wasn’t meaningful, nor did it contain any strange text faces, explicit language, or other fun things that Haxus was fond of throwing in. It was just the warning and then a bunch of text he couldn’t read after.

And that was generally a sign of something very bad.

Sendak only hesitated for a moment before selecting it.

The collection contained far more files than most of the others, twenty-six, each with their own overviews and more detailed writeups. Staying clear of the actual…thing, he selected and skimmed through one of the overviews…which was…. actually even more incomprehensible as the title. Not a hint of galra common, station slang, or really anything he could understand in the entire text, heavily formal and technical, and completely three dimensional, so probably speech to text dictated as he was working. And that was telling. Haxus must have been excited about it, or meaning to use it for something important, if he was dedicated enough to take notes so thoroughly. It was also clear that this wasn’t meant for anybody else’s eyes. No translator could pick it apart, not even Sendak's for some reason, and for a moment he wondered if he should go back and choose something else. Not wanting to disrespect Haxus' privacy even though he wasn’t around anymore to take offence, not to mention the fact that he was so far unable to find any legible instructions, rendering the whole collection useless to him, but he got lucky. Further down past all the technical babble he found a bunch of Haxus' bizarre but useful hand drawn instructional diagrams with various situations depicted. He knew how to read them, Haxus had stepped him through how to put things together using them before, but there….didn’t seem to be one for use against an AI…or at least not that he was seeing, not until he hit the bottom of the page. The text was beyond hard to understand but he recognized the word ‘override’ and a few of the image symbols Haxus used to depict an AI.

AI override.

That had to be it.

He was good to go.

Taking a deep breath, he gave himself permission to move Haxus' creation, knowing that no matter what he was working on and no matter what they were going through, that Haxus would want him to be safe over anything else.

The entire collection was massive. It would take a vrek at least to transfer in its entirety. So, he selected just one file, file zero, and followed the thankfully almost readable transfer instructions down to the wire as much as he was able to as he moved it from the hypernet storage onto his eye’s hard drive along with the diagram. Once he made sure it wasn’t going to….do something….kill him through its containment or some other horrible thing, he reduced the window and brought the system log back up.

He ran one last scan.

_< Artificial Intelligence>_

There was only one result. AI chamber.

That had to be it.

He selected it, bringing up the worst wall of text he’d seen yet. But Haxus’ instructions, as usual, were much easier to follow than anything he’d found elsewhere, and he was able to find the correct place to plant each part of the file within a rahkip, only stopped up some by the system differences. The instant he hit upload the ship was shooting warning after warning at him, all of which he canceled with his access authority before they could produce any alarm.

He took another deep breath before giving a final confirmation.

The entire screen blanked, fizzling out into static for a split kip before coming back up like nothing had happened, and Sendak was left wondering if he’d done something wrong.

That didn’t last long however.

He could see something flickering on his interface and then there was…something to read. In the bottom corner a new text box had appeared, fizzling in and out like the screen had when he’d confirmed the virus upload. It was in Haxus' native language, same as everything else but the prompt was short and to the point. It was asking for instructions.

His lip quirked up in an almost smile.

Haxus’ virus was working.

He selected the instruction box as it flashed at him again, almost as if impatient, the text writing itself again to make sure he had seen.

_[Directive]_

<_>

Sendak had no idea if there was a specific way it needed to be written, so he chose to simply enter the instructions as plain text, as best as he could manage.

_< Clear crew from detainment floor. Kill crew. Release prisoner.>_

_[Confirm Directive] [Yes/No]_

_< Yes>_

_[Directive Accepted]_

_[Executing Directive….]_

…………...Nothing happened.

Furrowing his brow slightly he opened back up the video feeds, checking the locations he’d last left the paladins.

Sendak found the blue paladin first. They were out of the cryopod looking no worse than when they’d gone in. They were heading out of the medical bay.

The assistant altean was off in a different wing of the medical bay, messing with another pod.

Red was still locked in combat with the drone. Good.

Yellow and Green were down in the green lion’s hangar, and the altean princess was in her quarters, asleep...

No wait…

There was…something in the room with her.

He could hardly make it out on the camera at first, and nearly wrote it off as a glitch in the system, static, but in the next instant, it came into focus. A figure in white armor, calling out to her, startling both her and Sendak alike.

He forced down an excited chirp.

It was **_working_**.

Not long after Sendak though he could feel a change in the ship, maybe the pod shifted…that was probably it. The secondary device still looked to be functioning, but he no longer felt the telltale, agonizing pull against his psyche. The pod’s sedation levels were lightening, temperature increasing to something comfortable. His eye buzzed, making his ear twitch involuntarily at the suddenness of it.

Personal bio-scan.

An altean timer appeared beside the directive window with a countdown going. A run through the translator revealed it to be approximant full recovery time, the equivalent to about six rahkips, and he understood. Once the time was up, he would be in optimal condition to make his escape.

And just like that it was a waiting game again. He had no idea how Haxus’ virus was able to access his eye, but he trusted it. Haxus wouldn't tolerate anything he created being defective. This had to be what it was meant to do.

Haxus would never make anything that would hurt him.

So, he allowed himself to relax marginally, opening the feeds back up to observe.

The figure with the princess he now recognized as the old altean king, the past red paladin. Maybe manifested as some kind of…visual representation of the ships AI, or maybe chosen specifically to garner trust, but whatever it was it was now untethered from its chamber and out to do damage, starting with the princess, because she was up and following it out of her room within kips.

Excited, he flipped over to the next feed, the blue paladin, and almost fluffed again at what he saw.

The lights were out, the paladin looked terrified, and the AI was flickering into focus at the end of the hall, blinking away before the alien could get a good look at it.

“C-Coran is that you?....Okay, stop messing with me guys this isn't funny….”

They peered off into the darkened corridor, suddenly attuned to something that Sendak seemed to have missed. The next kip they were charging forward into the dark.

“Hello! Coran?!”

Then Sendak heard it, a nearly mechanical voice warbling through to him from the ship’s audio receptors.

_“Help…Somebody! I'm trapped in the airlock!”_

Bait, Sendak knew. He could see into the airlock. There was nothing at all inside, but the blue paladin fell for it, not even hesitating to key open the door and dash inside.

The door slammed shut behind them, trapping them as Sendak knew it would, leaving them with only thirty ‘ticks’ to live, and leaving Sendak giddy on success as he watched the paladin pound on the door with their bare fists in a panic, shouting desperately for help.

He flipped over to the green hanger. The gravity was off, the green and yellow paladins were contained and floating freely up higher and higher. It would be easy for the virus to make the hangar doors malfunction, blowing the pair out into space….or perhaps…..Sendak wondered how far these aliens could fall before they were damaged irreparably…the hangers ceilings were somewhat high and the green paladin looked quite frail…. Oh, Haxus would _love_ it! Blood for blood, fall for fall……….. He shook the thought from his head.

Haxus would love it.

His almost good mood was again ruined by the Champion. Asking him more stupid questions, though more insistently this time around.

“What was the first rank you held in Zarkon’s army?”

“Where did you find the red lion?”

“What is Zarkon’s greatest weakness?”

The directive textbox blinked at him again, though this time it contained a message.

_[Do Not Move]_

_[Q…uiet]_

He did not understand but was given no time to question either the order or the odd look of the text before the overcomm flipped on.

_“What makes you think you can possibly defeat him?”_ the virus questioned, sending a thrill up Sendak’s spine with the perfect replication of his voice.

The Champion was looking at him now, terror momentarily flashing through their eyes before realizing that Sendak hadn’t and apparently couldn't move. They took a deep breath, feigning calm for no one but themself before asking another question.

“If you were to attack Zarkon, where would you strike?”

_“Why strike at all when you can join him?”_ the virus responded, sending the Champion into a panicked spin, looking around the room for any sign of an intruder. They found none of course, which only served to frighten them more before their eyes finally landed on Sendak once again.

_[Do…d….]_

_[..D…o...N]_

_[Do….N̴̙͎̣̏ot M-ove]_

The text box flickered again, distortion in the text much worse than before.

Something flashed across the surface of the pod’s barrier, that Sendak nearly didn’t catch. The image of his face, eye open and looking at the Champion menacingly flickered for not even a half kip, but the effect was immediate. The Champion was frozen before him, looking at him with wide, terrified eyes.

Hopefully they would run soon. That was obviously what the virus was going for, and it looked to be working, even with whatever was happening to it that was causing the text glitch.

However, there was an issue on the other end of the ship.

Somehow the red paladin had gotten rid of the drone and freed Blue from the airlock. They had made their way back to the medical bay to retrieve the altean while he was distracted with the Champion and now, they were on the way to the green hangar. The door hissed open and the two suspended paladins fell to the floor, unfortunately, seemingly uninjured. 

He went back to the directive box, tried to get the virus’ attention. They were headed toward the detainment level, looking for the Champion, they needed to be diverted, but something was wrong. The text looked strange, scrambled, blinking in and out of existence like the thing couldn’t decide what to say. Any directive he entered was both accepted and denied before the directive option disappeared completely and the box closed. Sendak was at a loss for what to do until another box opened directly at the center of the screen.

_[Environment Unsafe]_

_[Abortion Of Directive And AI Termination Recommended]_

_[Yes/No]_

What in the void did that mean, of course the environment was unsafe, he was being held prisoner by Voltron? Why would he terminate the AI? It was trying to kill the paladins like he had directed. He needed to _get out_ of the pod. He needed them to **_die_** _._

_< No>_

_[….Environment Unsafe]_

_[Directive Cannot Be Completed]_

_[Unsanctioned Activity Detected]_

_[Immediate Abortion Of Directive And Termination Of Ship AI Highly Recommended]_

_< No>_

The screen crackled, and the textbox flashed a violent blue before moving to the side. Two more windows opened in its place. One containing…a good deal of completely incomprehensible math. A massive equation or maybe multiple equations running simultaneously alongside each other, slowly but surely shrinking as the ships computer….or the virus.…whatever was completing them got closer to the solution. The other contained only two sets of coordinates connected by a line. He didn’t know what it meant.

_[Quantum Tunneling Imminent]_

_[Exit Coordinates Unsafe]_

_[Environment Unsafe]_

_[Quantum Tunneling Unsanctioned]_

_[Immediate Termination Of Ship AI Required For Continued Survival]_

Images, models, popped up beside the coordinates. The first, their location was a box with nothing…empty space he figured, but the destination was larger and brighter. The blue coordinate engulfed in the swirling white model of a star.

Sendak felt his blood run cold.

He entered a new order into the directive box as quickly as he could, breath picking up.

_< Terminate Wormhole Jump>_

_[……Directive Cannot Be Completed….Termination Of Ship AI Required For Continued Survival]_

_< Terminate Ship AI>_

He entered franticly, hearing his voice again speaking to the Champion, though not registering what was being said. It didn’t matter though. He had a feeling whatever that was had nothing to do with his virus.

_[Executing Directive….Execut….Ex…………………………………………….Execution Dis…r…uption]_

_[Exec…..Disruption…….Immediate Evacuation Necessary For Continued Survival]_

_[…………Evacuation Disruption…Pod 2 Jettison Disruption….….Jettison Malfunction…..Secondary Pod Lacks Jettison Capacity…..Error…..]_

_[Error]_

_[Error]_

_[Directive]_

_[Directive]_

_[Directive?]_

_[Directive?]_

_[Directive?]_

_[Directive?]_

_[Directive??]_

_[Directive???]_

**_[Directive???]_ **

_[Environment **Unsafe**. Quantum Jump **Imminent.** Conscious Operator Directive **Required For Continued Survival.** **Directive?** ]_

Sendak didn’t know what to do. The box flashed insistently, dangerously in the brightest colors his interface could manage screaming for his attention, but he didn’t know what to tell it. It couldn’t jettison the pod. Whatever normally did that automatically must be being stopped by the rogue ships AI, but he also couldn’t punch his way out and make it past the now beyond frantic Champion, make it to an escape shuttle and get off the ship in time. The count down to its wormhole jump was down near a ‘dobosh’, next to nothing.

He closed the flashing box. Ignoring further useless promptings.

He needed…..needed…to jettison. That was the fastest way out. Somehow jettison manually. He scanned the surrounding area and found the emergency release. Right beside the pod. It was close but he’d have to destroy the barrier to reach it, and it was on his left…he’d have to turn in the small space……..

_“Do you really think a monster like you could be a Voltron paladin?!”_ the ships AI snarled in his voice, finally sending the Champion over the edge.

With a desperate shout the alien threw a punch toward his pod, the powerful prosthetic crashing into the barrier with enough force to send thick fracture lines shooting out in every direction.

They were panting, trembling with nerves, ready to break, and Sendak was hit with a moment’s inspiration. He ran a scan of the barrier.

The integrity was weakened, but it was still intact. It would hold as long as he didn't jostle the pod. And he had a helmet if worst came to worst. He braced himself, hoping he would get lucky one last time, then, when the alien looked up at him, he lunged forward, opening his organic eye, letting the light from his other flare bright, and baring his teeth in a wicked grin not a hands length from the paladin’s face. 

The alien dove back, then to their right, all but crushing the emergency release in their panic.

The pod released, and he was all but smashed into the ceiling with the force that it was ejected. He managed to curl his arm around his head at the last kip, sparing himself further injury when he hit but the wind was still knocked from him by the G force pinning him in place. All he could do was hold on until he cleared the ejection tunnel and the heavy G force was replaced by the sickening feeling of zero gravity.

Retching, he pushed himself out of his crumpled position, forcing his feet to the ground with a hand on the ceiling in hopes that the feeling would relieve the vertigo, if only for a moment until he could get himself reoriented. The last thing he wanted to do was get sick in the small pod.

His interface blinked, the virus window had forced itself back open, but again he ignored it, at least until it forced itself open again, this time not allowing him to close it and spitting out prompts at an alarming rate, bombarding him with alerts.

_[Jettison Malfunction, Secondary Pod Lacks Jettison Capacity]_

_[Conscious Operator Directive Is Required For Continued Survival Of Pod 2 Occupant]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

_[ **Directive?** ]_

He tried running an environmental scan, positive that it was just confused about his location. Thinking that he was still on the ship instead of off, then tried describing his location when it didn't work, beyond confused as to what was going on until he heard a soft beep, and the little bio-scan window popped back up. It was finished, and now allowing him to see a comprehensive list of everything on the ship.

Seven enemy life-forms, and to his shock, one more, friendly red and out of place down in the medical bay. In a pod just like he was. A horizontal pod…without jettison capacity. With its occupant being immediately identified by his cybernetic as having Haxus' bio-rhythms, slow and shaky from the cryosleep, but recognizable and very much _alive_.

In a single punch he's through the pod’s barrier, blown free and out into the black by the violent decompression so fast that his helmet barely had time to materialize into place before the void was ripping the breath from his lungs.

Over and over he ordered Haxus' virus to terminate the ships AI, to kill the engines, to overload and burn out the thrusters, to blow up whatever it was that allowed the ship to make its wormhole jumps as he righted himself and fired his boosters, heading as fast as he can back to the ship. He crashes into the airlock door painfully, bouncing off and going flying off back into the black, then firing his tether to tow himself back in.

With a snarl of panic and pent up rage he slams his now gloved fist into the metal over and over, warping and tearing at the seam of the door until the ship’s atmosphere starts to burst free, blowing him back no matter how hard he tries to hold on.

He gets nothing but negative responses from the virus. Whatever control it had before was completely gone, overtaken by the ships corrupted AI. Useless to him. If he was going to get Haxus he’d have to do it on his own.

The instant the atmosphere cleared he was back at the door, bracing one of his feet against one side of the seam and his hand on the other to force it open, and nearly getting it to before somehow there were hands on him, ripping his tether free and his body away from the door, tossing him away from the ship as its distinct wormhole gateway opened up in front of it.

_[Environment unsafe]_

_[Evacuation To Minimum Safe Distance Before Wormhole Jump Required For Continued Survival]_

_[Redirection Of Quantum Leap Vector In Progress]_

_[Move To Minimum Safe Distance Immediately]_

It was the drone. The one he’d set on the red paladin, somehow outside of the ship and pulling him rapidly away from the ship with its own boosters.

With a sharp kick to its abdomen he breaks free, moving back toward the ship as fast as his boosters will take him until he's grabbed again.

_[Continued Survival Of Sendak Is Mandated By Creator]_

_[Move To Minimum Safe Distance Immediately Or You Will Be Moved To Minimum Safe Distance By Force]_

It flashed a lot more text in his face, but he ignored every bit of it, not able to focus on anything other than getting back into the ship and only growing more frantic as he’s pulled further away by the drone’s superior maneuverability and near unbreakable mechanical grip on him. Eventually, he’s able to kick it free, but by then its far too late. In the blink of an eye the ship is gone, through the gate, which closes behind it a moment later, and Haxus is gone once again.

The wail that bursts from him is deafening inside of his helmet, but that’s the last thing on his mind. Wildly, he jets around the now empty space before him, looking stupidly and in vain for any signs that Haxus somehow miraculously made it, jettisoned free at the last kip, blinded in one eye by tears and spinning frantically until he feels bile rise from his stomach as the zero gravity makes him sick and dizzy. The only thing that stops him from puking in his helmet is the solid grip of the drone stabilizing him.

  _[Bio-Rhythms Irregular]_

_[Bio-Rhythms Unstable]_

_[Stabilization And Regulation Of Bio-Rhythms Recommended]_

_[Stabilization……S……Stabilize……..]_

_[.]_

_[.]_

_[.]_

_[Error]_

_[….Error]_

_[…….Err……Erro……]_

_[……………………..]_

_[Behavioral Matrix Updated]_

_[Breathe Sendak]_

Spiraling and in shock he can do nothing but go quietly with it, letting it hold him tightly against it and hardly registering anything as it guides them both back to the abandoned pod and tucks them more safely inside, unable to comprehend what he’d just done.

There was something happening with his eye, he can feel it doing…something distantly, but he’s in no state of mind to understand, and soon the stars are blurring around him, he’s unmoored and adrift alone all over again, and its all his fault.

Arms tighten around him, and he desperately squeezes back.

  _[Breathe Sendak]_

_[Everything Is Going To Be Okay]_

_[Breathe]_

 

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


End file.
